


Nutty For Wonka

by ETNMystic



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hypnosis, Squirrels, cinnamon roll character, oompa loompas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-08-10 22:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 36,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: Matilda Prescott, ten going on eleven and a dedicated Wonkarer. For years, she's idolized Mr. Wonka. And with her notebook of ideas inspired by him and his factory being located in the city she lives in, what could be better? But one day, things begin to turn dark. Classmates have been disappearing one by one, and the last place they were seen was near the Wonka factory...





	1. Gummy Grapplers

**Author's Note:**

> (This is another fic from my fanfiction.net account, Jadyne Farrow. I've been working on this since junior year of high school when we did the musical "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." I was cast as one of the main candy kids, named Matilda, which is probably one of my favorite roles to date. She's described as a bit of a bully, but I didn't exactly see that too much in her, but I guess a little. I even went as her for Halloween that year. That was the first show where my character had both lines and a solo. Usually I'd be double/triple cast and one character would have a solo while the other would have lines.)

**(Matilda's POV):**

"Katherine Albright?" Mr. Turkentine calls.

"Here, Mr. Turkentine," squeaks a girl two rows behind me.

"Sophie Ballard?"

"Here, Mr. Turkentine," a girl the next desk over says.

"Charlie Bucket?"

"Here, Mr. Turkentine," the boy sitting next to me barely pipes up.

"Charlie Bucket?"

The whole class expects this. A few snicker as Charlie tries to hide.

"He's here, Mr. Turkentine," I say firmly, glaring at the rest of the lot.

That shut those snickerers right up.

"Let him speak for himself then."

And that shut me right up.

Morning attendance. I keep telling Charlie that he needs to speak up. He's just too quiet sometimes and he doesn't get noticed too much because of it. I say too much because sometimes he's hard to miss. Among the rest of us, he's a bit of a scruffy thing. His family's not too well off. I once saw him wear the same shirt for a week because his others were either too small or too worn down.

My name's not for a while, so I pull out my notebook of ideas. I flip open to a specially-marked page full of ideas; candy ideas. I've scribbled down quite a few since school began last week; candy floss for reluctant flossers. Chocolate-coated, pretzel glasses frames with clear, crystal sugar lenses. Numb gum for cavatiers who hate needles. All of whom have been inspired by the confectionary genius himself; Willy Wonka.

"Matilda Prescott?" I barely hear Mr. Turkentine call.  
"Matilda!"

"Huh?" I groan.

Most of the class snickers.

"Oh. Here, Mr. Turkentine," I say quickly.

He walks over to my desk, looming over me like a shadow.

"Despite the fact that you're not called for a while during attendance, it would do you good to pay attention instead of focusing on-whatever it is you're doing."

I nod sheepishly as he walks back to the board.

* * *

The rest of the time before the end of the day, I try to keep my mind off of my notebook of ideas. Unfortunately, when you have to write word problems for arithmetic, that's difficult to do. I'm a bit reluctant to hand the sheet in to Mr. Turkentine.

"All right. Class dismissed. Have a great weekend."

What a relief! I grab my things and try to sneak out of the classroom.

"Not so fast, Miss Prescott," Mr. Turkentine says.

I freeze in place.

"I'd like to see you for a moment."

Charlie and James have turned back and are waiting for me.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up," I tell them.

With a sigh, I walk over to Mr. Turkentine. He seems to notice my nerves.

"You're not in trouble. I just wanted to speak with you."

"About what, sir?"

"You seem to have developed a keen interest in the chemistry of confectionary creation, is that correct?"

I look at him in confusion.

"The science of candy making," he says.

Oh. That makes sense.

"What made you come to that conclusion, sir?"

He pulls a sheet of paper from atop the stack.

"Your arithmetic problems have all consisted of confectionary creation. For instance, _Mr. Wonka needs to create a dozen Gummy Grapplers for a group of Mt. Everest climbers with a sweet tooth. Suppose the recipe for four Gummy Grapplers requires a total of 1/3 cup of hardened gelatin, 3/4 cup of crystal sugar, 2 and 1/2 liters of sticky solution, and 7 cups of food coloring. By how much will Mr. Wonka have to increase each ingredient to cater to the entire group? How much of each ingredient is needed for a dozen Gummy Grapplers? How much of each ingredient is needed for one Gummy Grappler?_"

I look down at the floor.

"Just what is a Gummy Grappler, Miss Prescott?"

"Well, sir," I say hesitantly looking back up.  
"It acts like a grappling hook, but it looks like one of those stretchy, sticky hands you can win at carnivals and it's made of a flavorful, gummy consistency."

"I see. Is anyone in your family a chemist?"

"No, sir. Not as far as I know. I come from a family of mostly mathematicians or homemakers."

"Then where on earth did you get such an idea?"

I look back down at the floor.

"You're not in trouble for this. I just want to know where you got the idea."

"It just came to me, I guess, sir."

"Well, it's quite alright to have a passion for something, especially in your case. Not many of the girls in my class or in the school are interested in any sort of science. However you shouldn't let it take over your life. You're only ten. You don't need to be thinking about a career quite yet. Now run along. I'm sure your friends are waiting."

"Thank you, sir," I say politely as I walk out of the door and head for the schoolyard.


	2. Bulky Bullies

**(Matilda's POV):**

The cool September air rushes round my socks and sneakers as I rush out into the schoolyard and the gray daytime sky. Strange. No sign of Charlie or James. Perhaps they went too far ahead.

"Oy, fellas! Look 'o it is. The street urchin and 'is lackey."

The sound of the schoolboys' mocking laughter bounce around the yard. I glance over to find a circle surrounding the old oak tree in the yard. A shadow is casted upon two fearful faces. One pale and scrawny. The other dark and lean.

"Not again," I sigh as I rush over to the crowd of boys.

"'Ey, street urchin! 'Ow much money 'ave yeh squandered among th' streets?"

"When's yeh family 'eadin' t' th' poor'ouse, 'uh?"

"Bug off, Carmichael!" I spit from the outer circle.

The boys, bewildered, clear a path for me as I walk over with my head up high to face the fearsome foe; William Carmichael.

"What've they done to you?"

"Oy, street urchin! Looks like yeh gielfriend 'ad teh step in an' save yeh again, 'uh?"

Despite the heavy shadow casted over his face, it's apparent that Charlie, the one called street urchin, is blushing quite heavily.

"Betcha wish I was your girlfriend, Carmichael," I retort.  
"Because you're gonna need someone to save your behind one day."

I turn to Charlie and James.

"Come on, guys. Let's go," I tell them as I walk from the crowd; they follow close behind.  
"Clearly these imbeciles need time to comprehend what I just said. And by that, I mean A LOT of time."

I hold my head up high as I leave Carmichael, leader of the dunce troop, and his lackeys behind.


	3. Dizzy Dewdrops

**(Matilda's POV):**

"Thanks for saving our rear ends, Matilda," Charlie gasps when we're out of earshot.

"Thank me all you want this time because that's the last time I'm saving them," I sniff.

"But that's what you always say," James exclaims.

"Well...this time I mean it," I babble out quickly.

"And you always say that too."

"I can't fight all your battles for you."

"But you aren't. You're just helping. Besides, what if it's something we can't get ourselves out of?"

"Like what?" I scoff.

There's a moment of silence, save for the whistling wind.

"Like...like...like what if we're turned into squirrels?"

Charlie and I freeze. We look at James as if he'd escaped from a mental hospital.

"When are you ever going to be turned into squirrels?" I ask.

"It could happen!" James retorts.

"The only thing you're gonna turn into in relation to squirrels," I spit back.  
"is a nutcase if you keep talking like that!"

"Guys, stop," Charlie gasps.

We screech to a halt and turn. The rusty iron fence makes the gloomy sky even darker.

"There it is."

Almost everyone who lives in this town knows what the fence bars; the famous Willy Wonka factory. After spies were caught sneaking in and stealing recipes, everyone was fired and the factory never opened its doors. It shut down completely. But three years later, smoke began puffing from the big cylindrical chimneys towering over the factory grounds.

"Nobody ever goes in," James whispers.

"And nobody ever comes out," Charlie finishes.

A chill slithers through my spine. They're right. Ever since it began working again, no one has ever entered or come from the factory. At least, no one alive.

"Well go on," James urges me.

"Huh?" I groan jumping from my thoughts.

"It's your turn to touch the fence."

"Oh. Right," I shiver.

Everyday, coming to and from school, we pass the factory gates. And one day we decided it would be a great idea to grab ahold of the fence coming home from school; it's to prove you are still a dedicated Wonkarer. Charlie did it yesterday and James did it on Wednesday. Now it's my turn.

Slowly I approach the gate; its long, dark shadow shrinks me down to the size of an ant. As I come closer, I feel dizziness invade my head, one that I've been feeling for a while now. Taking a deep breath, I extend my trembling hands and grab onto the cold, chipping metal.

Another chill surges through me, only it's much quicker. Suddenly it begins. First barely audible. Then louder and louder. The voices of squeaking, scared squirrels. A few of them have a familiarity in their voice; it makes me shiver even more.

"Matilda?" I hear an echo ring in my ear.

I try to pull away, but my hands seem to be stuck to the fence and I feel as though I'm being pulled towards it; pulled by tiny, clawed paws. Suddenly I feel a pair of little feet running up one of my arms. Next I feel as though I'm being scratched. Wincing in pain, tears fall from my face.

"Matilda!" James yells from a distance.

I can't bare it any longer. Painfully I pull away from the fence and fall to the ground.

What comes next are the most frightening feelings of all; stillness and silence.


	4. Cider Chewies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to get a teensy bit strange.
> 
> (Cw: Vomiting)

** (Matilda's POV): **

"Matilda, are you alright?" Charlie asks me as I push myself up.

I try to hide my face from them. Never cry at the gates; that's one of our rules. It's a sign of wavering away from Wonkarerhood.

Covering my face, I run from the gates as Charlie and James follow behind. When we're a safe distance away, I reveal the watery sins on my face.  My head is still spinning and I feel like I'm going to vomit. What I heard were no ordinary squirrels. They sounded too much like squirrels, yet their tones were that of what one would hear in a human experiencing fear and torture.

I can't hold it in much longer. Leaning against a wall, I bend into an empty metal can and spew my sick in there. After what seems like hours of vomiting, all I feel is dizziness and disgust. I can't believe what just happened. I've felt the dizziness, but never have I been physically ill after touching the bars. I turn back to Charlie and James.

"Matilda, what happened?" Charlie exclaims.  
"Your face is covered in sick. Here."

He pulls out an old scarf; his only one.

"Use this to wipe your face."

"But that's your only scarf."

"I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, don't look fine."

"I don't want to waste your scarf," I tell him.  
"Maybe we should find shelter. It's getting cold and my house isn't too far from here. We can make some hot cider."

"But my parents expect me to come straight home."

"We can just explain to them that you're going over to my house for a bit and you'll be back before six."

Charlie considers this for a moment.

"Well, alright then. I suppose they'll be fine with it."

* * *

After a quick stop at the Bucket home (shack would be a more proper word.), the three of us walk to my house.

"James, you get a pot and some water to boil," I explain as we head inside.  
"Charlie, you get out the hot cider mix."

"Where are your parents?" Charlie asks.

"Mom's probably out shopping again," I explain as I turn on the sink.

"How much water do I need to boil again?" James asks.

"A half cup of water for each of us."

I splash some cold water on my face and wipe off the sick. After rinsing out my mouth, I head back out into the kitchen where James is muddling with the heat knob on the stove.

"Turn it to medium-high," I tell him.

All of a sudden, I hear a loud squeak and I shriek. Charlie and James jump, causing James to spill the pot.

"What was that for?" James asks in anger.

A second squeak rings through the kitchen.

"Is this what you were screaming at, Matilda?" Charlie asks.  
"A squirrel?"

I turn to find Charlie over by an open window. From the window, you can see an old oak tree. On a branch extending to the width of the window is a little brown squirrel with eyes that look like they were magnified by glasses. He looks very familiar to me. I can't pinpoint why, though. In his hands, he holds a fair-sized walnut.

"Why do you look so scared, Matilda?" Charlie asks.

I shake my head.

"No reason."

"But it doesn't-" James begins.

"Come on, you two!" I snap.  
"Help me clean this puddle up."


	5. Red Rose Minties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (CW: Slight bleeding)

**(Matilda's POV):**

About a half hour later, we're sitting in my room drinking the cider. I constantly try to steer the conversation away from what happened earlier. Thankfully James does it for me, the dodo.

"Hey. Did any of you notice that Alfie Nelson wasn't in class again today?" James asks.

"I did notice that. It was peculiar," Charlie remarks.

Peculiar indeed. Being one of Mr. Turkentine's best students, even if it's only been the first week since school started, Alfie would be one of the last people anyone would think to miss class.

"What makes it even more peculiar is that this isn't the first day he's been gone," James remarks.

"Billie Smith wasn't in class today either," I say.

"Well, that's different," James exclaims.  
"Billie hates arithmetic, so you'd expect her to skip out on arithmetic days. Heck, she barely even knows arithmetic. There isn't a moment where she isn't either batting her eyes and sucking on a lollipop, putting on makeup, or saying something stupid."

"Yes, but she wasn't in class yesterday either. Or the day before. And they weren't arithmetic days. In fact I haven't seen her or Alfie since the first day of class."

"Perhaps she got sick?" Charlie suggests.

"Or she skipped school," James says.  
"I had her in summer school and she barely came to class."

We sip in silence for a few moments.

"I'm all out. Mind if I brew a bit more, Mati?"

"Long as you don't make a mess," I tell him.  
"And I told you not to call me that."

James takes his glass and heads down into the kitchen, leaving Charlie and I alone. Now this may sound odd, considering I'm not very girly, but when I'm just with Charlie, I feel different. I feel dizzy, but not like what happened at the gate. Dizziness that's almost pleasing to the senses, yet at the same time discomforting. What's more my face feels like it's burning up.

"Matilda, what happened back at the gates?" he asks out of the blue.

I gulp the cider in my mouth.

"Huh?" I wonder.

"When you touched the gates, you looked like you were in pain. I was worried about you."

My mom says that's how she felt when she first saw father-until she found out he did science.

But this is different. I've felt that way about fictional characters and some historical figures. But when I feel it when I'm with Charlie, it's much more intense. Could it be-?

Suddenly I feel a trickle run down my arm.

"You're bleeding!" Charlie exclaims.

Quickly he grabs my handkerchief from my bedside table and wipes away the blood.

"Where did you get these scratches?"

Scratches? I look at my arm and I find a bunch of scratches on my left arm; the arm where I felt the claws dig into at the gate. It could've just been a hallucination, though.

"Probably when I fell down or I scraped it on the bars."

"Hey. Look what I found on the windowsill," James exclaims running upstairs.

Holding out his hand, I find he has a walnut.

"Squirrel must've dropped it."

He walks over to my bedside table and pounds the nut on it.

"What are you doing?" I exclaim.

"I'm trying to get it open."

"Well, find some other way. You'll scratch the wood."

Shrugging, he takes the nut and bites it in between his teeth, splitting it in two just like a squirrel. I shudder at the thought.

"Drat! No walnut."

He sets it down on the table.

"I've gotta get home," James says.  
"It's a quarter to six."

Hearing this Charlie gasps.

"I've gotta get home as well. See ya, Matilda!"

I watch as James and Charlie rush out the front door and go separate ways. When they've left, I start to head to the bathroom when I spy the walnut that James left. He was right about there being no walnut, but he forgot to mention there's something in place of the nut.

"A slip of paper?" I ask confused.

Cautiously I pick it up. On the front, it reads:

_No time to explain everything. We're trapped. Read the red marks._

The red marks? How odd. I stuff the paper in my pocket and wash the blood from the scratches. Patting them dry, I lift the towel and check my arm. There's something odd about the way the scratches are positioned. It's in a message, highlighted in my dried blood:

_Help us-Wonka._

The red marks.


	6. Story Swizzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's short.

**(Charlie's POV):**

After dinner, I help clean up the dishes and then I remember.

"May I please be excused?" I ask.  
"There's something I have to do. I don't think it will take too long."

"Alright, but please hurry," my mother says.  
"You don't want to miss your grandpa's story for the night."

I smile excitedly.

"Never in a million years would I miss one of Grandpa Joe's stories."

I hop onto my bed and pull out a piece of paper. Matilda's birthday is coming up and though I can't give her much of a present, the least I can do is make her a nice card.

I'm going to be honest. I feel different when it's just Matilda and I. On the outside, she's tough. Incredibly tough and witty. But I feel like she's covering up something; the fact that maybe she's been strong for too long and I have a sudden urge to protect her when she looks or acts hurt. You could say it's like I'm her slightly older brother (our birthdays are only about a few days apart), but I'm not sure if that's the best way to describe it. I feel like she's a precious gem that could be stolen or destroyed at any moment, yet tough and sturdy at the same time.

Maybe I can finally see if those feelings are really what I think they might be. I pull out a pencil and begin to write throughout the night, taking a break only to listen to Grandpa Joe tell another story about the famous Wonka factory.


	7. Nutty Nummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to heat up, as a certain contest stirs up the creative mind of our main trio.

**** **(Matilda's POV):**

I wake up the next morning to a loud tapping at my head. No, wait. At my window. Groggy, I sit up and grab my glasses. I push myself out of bed and look at my arm. The scratches, though still visible, have healed. Was it just my mind playing tricks on me when I saw that message? It's a possibility.

I walk to the window and open the blinds. Nothing there. Outside it's as gloomy as yesterday. The tapping, it turns out, is that old tree branch by my window. But 

"Same old, same old, I suppose," I sigh.  
"When's something life-changing gonna happen to me?"

I put on my clothes for the day and stuff the note from last night in my pocket. Mom's fast asleep, so I have to be super quiet. I grab myself some breakfast and then check outside the front step. There's the morning newspaper. I unwrap it from the rubber band and read the front page. The headline catches my eye. Looks like that life-changing thing could come sooner than I think it will.

"No way! I should tell Charlie and James."

* * *

Picking up my feet, I rush over to the Bucket shack and knock on their door. It opens and I find his mother. A very young and pretty woman, she has blondish hair that goes perhaps just a bit past her shoulders and a kind face.

"Hello, Mrs. Bucket. Is Charlie awake yet?"

She gives a small smile.

"Hello, Matilda. I'm not quite sure. Why don't you come in?"

I step inside the shack. It's not as cold as it usually is. In fact, as I step inside, a cloud of warmth surrounds me and I smell a burning fire. Not terribly hot, but as hot as it's ever been in here.

"Charlie?" Mrs. Bucket calls.

There's no answer.

"He must still be asleep."

I look over into his bedroom. There I find a boy lying on a bed covered in a bunch of crumpled papers and broken pencils. Quite a sight, if I do say so myself.

"Oh hello, Matilda!" an old voice exclaims.

I turn to find one of Charlie's grandparents; Grandma Josephine. She's sitting up excitedly in her bed, shared by three other people; Charlie's other grandparents.

"Georgina," she rasps across the bed, gently nudging the woman across from her with her foot.

The other woman snorts and jolts awake.

"Wha-?" she groans.

Grandma Georgina. She and Josephine are best friends, but as far as I can see, they don't have much in common. Besides that they're old, live in the same bed, and they're both grandmas to the same kid.

"Georgina, Matilda's here!"

"Oh. Hello, dearie," Georgina groans kindly.  
"Could you spare some chocolate?"

"Perhaps a few Wonka Nut-a-rifics?" Josephine asks hungrily.

I smile and shake my head.

"I told you. If and when I get married to Charlie, you'll be able to get all the Wonka Nut-a-rifics you can eat."

Oh yeah. I've forgotten. They've joked with me about how they're gonna get me to marry Charlie just so they can get chocolate off of me.

I walk past the snoring grandpas and walk over to Charlie's bedroom. Or, more accurately, bed.

"Charlie?" I ask nudging him gently.

He snores a little.

"Charlie," I say shaking him.

His eyes open slowly and tiredly.

"Matilda?" he groans.  
"Wha-? It's Saturday."

"I know, but there's something I have to tell you and James," I whisper.

"Couldn't it wait until Monday?"

I shake my head.

"Please, Charlie. This could change our entire lives," I plead with him.

He gives a sigh and a smile, shaking his head.

"Give me a few minutes," he says sitting up.


	8. Paper Pasties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio decide to come up with a plan.

** (Matilda's POV): **

After he gets dressed and eats a little, we head up to James's house.

"Why can't you just tell me now?" Charlie asks panting.

"Because this requires teamwork."

We rush to his front door and knock hurriedly. His mother answers and tells us he's in the back. In a flash, we're right beside him. We find him raking some leaves.

"James! You gotta see this," I exclaim.

"What's all the excitement?" he asks as he puts down the rake.

"Listen to this!" I tell them.  
"_The Second Golden Age. Of Chocolate! Wonka Factory to be Opened to a Lucky Few._"

"Wait. People are going to be allowed inside? Keep reading!" James urges.

"Alright. Alright! Calm down, you dodo!" I spit.  
"_Mr. Willy Wonka has decided to allow five lucky children to take a tour of his world-famous factory. Five Golden Tickets have been hidden among fifty million ordinary chocolate bars. The five children who find these tickets will win the tour as well as a lifetime supply of chocolate._"

"It's too good to be true!" James exclaims.

"It's a miracle," Charlie gasps.

"And we're going to work together to find one of those blasted things," I add.  
"Or perhaps three of them."

"That's impossible," Charlie sighs suddenly melancholy.  
"I only get one bar a year; for my birthday."

"Don't worry, Charlie," I tell him.  
"I'm sure I have some money in my piggy bank. I'll buy a few bars and we can each open a set amount. But you guys will have to pay for perhaps a few of them."

"Not with the allowance I'm getting," James exclaims.  
"I've been behind on chores and you know what my mom says; no muscle out, no money in."

"Well, here's the solution; do your chores, you dodo!"

"With the amount of homework Mr. Turkentine's been giving? Not a chance."

I sigh. This will be more difficult than I thought.

"Okay then. Here's the plan; I'll deal with our candy finances as well as obtaining a few. All you have to worry about is if any of your bars have a ticket in them."

"Really?"

"On one condition," I add.  
"My birthday is in a few weeks and I'm having a party then. You two are obviously invited. Anyway aside from winning this contest and meeting my inspiration, there's one thing I want more than anything else in the world."

"What is it?" Charlie asks.

"At the shoppe next to the candy store, there's a toy store. In the right window display, there's a kit called _Advanced Deluxe Candy Confectionary Chemistry Kit for the Creative Adolescent Genius._ It's a bit pricey, but I'm sure you both can scrape up enough to buy it. Basically, get me the kit for my birthday and you won't have to worry about the contest finances. Deal?"

I look to each of them and they're hesitant to nod.

"Fine. I'll start you off with a few dollars each; the kit's about fifty."

"Why don't you just ask your parents to get it for you?" James asks.

"Have you met my mom?" I scoff.  
"We are complete polar opposites. I like to be carefree and curious: read and learn. For her it's all looks, not books. She keeps telling me that I'll never get a suitor if I'm buried in a candy lab and textbooks day and night. She keeps getting me makeup and dresses and makes a big deal if I'm doing anything with any guys. Like, she'll ask me about them and stuff. Whenever I feel sick, she'll ask who the guy is. But I've never felt that way at all."

"So your mom would make a fuss if Charlie and I came over?" James asks.

"Exactly. Why do you think I only let you come over when she's out?"

"What about your father?" Charlie asks.

I shake my head.

"I never see him anymore for some reason. He used to love spending time with me. But then he got a job somewhere, went to work one day, and never came back. It's a bit haunting, and disturbing, though I'm trying to hope he's not dead. Anyway that's why I'm relying on you two to buy me the kit. Now do we have a deal or not?"

I look to them one after the other.

"Of course," Charlie says, sounding a bit skeptical yet eager.

"Why not?" James sighs.

"Thanks, guys!" I smile.

"Quick question, though; what about your uncle on your mother's side? Can't he give us the money? He's fairly rich after all."

"Not if my cousin's heard about this contest; then he'll be spending his money to have the bars shipped over seas. He's wrapped around his daughter's finger and will do anything to make her happy."

"Remind me; what business is your uncle is again?"

"He's in the Nut Business."

"What a surprise," James groans sarcastically.


	9. Secret Sizzlers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matilda admits to Charlie about the red marks, and she learns something else quite odd.

**(Matilda's POV):**

After our little discussion, Charlie and I take a little walk while James stays behind to finish the raking. The sky is still incredibly cloudy and the air has taken a turn for the chillier. As we walk, I can't help but think about the message I received. Was it meant for me? The implication's point to yes, but could it have just been a misdirection of some sort? Perhaps it was meant for someone else? But the note did say red marks and my arm is full of them. The chances of someone else being in the same situation as I am are incredibly slim at this point. It makes me wonder whether I should tell Charlie or not.

On one hand, he's my friend and I should be able to trust him. But on the other hand, I doubt it's ever really happened to someone before. He might think I'm crazy.

"Matilda?" I hear him ask.  
"You seem upset about something. Is it about the contest? Don't worry. I'm sure you can get the money somehow."

I stop in my tracks. Perhaps I can trust him.

"Actually there are two things," I confess.  
"The first was about the contest."

"What's the second?" he asks coming to a stop beside me.

I look around to make sure we're alone. I beckon him to come close.

"Last night after you and James left," I whisper.  
"I found something inside the walnut shell he broke open."

"But didn't he say there wasn't a walnut-?"

"Yes, but only a walnut. Either he didn't bother to look at it or he didn't notice it."

I pull the little slip of paper out of my pocket and hand it to him.

"Read what it says."

His eyes take in each word slowly and steadily. When he hands the paper back, I can see a mix of fear and confusion in his eyes.

"What red marks?" he asks.

I hold out my arm and show him the scratches.

"_Help us-Wonka_?" he reads.  
"Where did you get these?"

"That's another thing I meant to tell you."

I take a deep breath.

"Call me crazy, but every time I pass the gates of the factory, I feel a sense of uneasiness inside of me. It's almost nauseating. Not too long ago, I began to hear cries for help that become louder the closer I get to the gate. They don't sound human and yet they have a human-like familiarity about their voices. That's what makes it nauseating.

"Then when it was my turn to grab the gate yesterday, it became worse. Then when I touched the gate, the cries were pounding against my ears. And I felt something pulling forward on my whole body. I also heard a man growling in rage. Next I felt and heard something scurry up my arm. Then I felt several hurried scratches, almost as if someone-or something-was trying to send me a message of some sort, but had to do it quickly. Then I just let go."

Charlie just stares at me in disbelief. I sigh.

"Of course you probably think I'm mad now, right?"

"A tad, but I don't know what else could've spelt out that message. When did this occur?"

"I told you. Yesterday when I touched the gate."

With a gasp, he looks at me, his face completely colorless.

"What is it, Charlie?"

"I remember. The Wonka Factory."

"What about it?"

He takes a deep breath.

"That's where Alfie and Billie were last seen."


	10. Nauseating Num-Nums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More strange things happen.

**(Matilda's POV):**

Several weeks goes by with no success from any of us. Already two tickets have been found. And one of them strikes me personally.

"Not surprised," I grumble when I show Charlie and James the Friday morning newspaper on our way to school.  
"_Nutty for Wonka: Daughter of Local Nut Tycoon Becomes the Second Golden Ticket Winner._"

"Who found it?" Charlie asks.

"Found it?" I scoff as I look up at Charlie.  
"She didn't even do any work to find it."

"Read on," James urges me.

I sigh and turn back to the paper.

"_Ten year old Veruca Salt, daughter of local nut tycoon Nigellius Salt, has found a shimmer of gold; the second golden ticket. When asked about how she managed to find the ticket, she replied 'My daddy brought in bars by the hundreds of thousands. He had those pathetic factory ladies shell them.'_

_"When asked if there was anyone she'd like to thank for helping find the ticket, Veruca replied, 'My cousin Matilda Prescott. She kept telling me that SHE was going to meet Mr. Wonka first. She's always gone on about how she wants to show him this notebook of hers. It's a petty thing full of stupid candy ideas. I don't remember any of them. None of them are any good._

_'But I would like to thank her for being so arrogant and greedy. She said she'd do anything to meet him. Well, Matilda. I guess your greed and arrogance backfired. Because I'm going to meet Mr. Wonka first. And he'll love me and my mink coats more than some girl with a stupid notebook. Guess you should've listened to your mother and prettied yourself up. Then you'd have one of these.'_

_"She began to flash the ticket around._

_'Since when does knowledge get you anywhere? It's rubbish. Your mum's right, you know. The only things that are important are looks and money. But thank you, Matilda, for not having your priorities straight. You can't always have what you want.'_"

"Hypocrite!" I yell into the rubbish.

I throw it down to the ground in disgust.

"She never does anything herself," I grumble.  
"Except scream for what she wants. I bet even _that_ requires someone to scream for her when she's too lazy."

"Why are you so against this girl?" James asks as Charlie picks the paper up and hands it back to me.

"Well, like it says in that paper, she's my cousin," I sigh as I take it from Charlie.  
"She's the one I was talking about a few weeks ago."

"Oh."

Suddenly I begin to get the shivers. I huddle up and look up to find we've stopped in front of the Wonka factory gates.

"Oh no," I gasp as a chill runs up my spine.

This time I don't even need to grab the bars for it to begin. I soon hear squeaking for help; almost human and yet it's not.

"Come on, Matilda!" Charlie urges me.

I try to, but something keeps me glued there. I soon see a silhouette in the distance. Or is it a small speck? It seems to grow. And grow. And grow. Into the size of a-

"Squirrel?" I ask in disbelief.

Then comes another small speck. Then another. And another. The specks seem to come and grow by the dozens and very quickly at that. It's almost as if they're running from something. Or someone.

I soon see another figure. This one's much bigger than the others. In fact as the squeaking becomes much more rapid and fearful, the grown specks seem to shrink in this figure's presence.

The sky begins to grow darker as the larger figure moves closer and closer to the gate. I feel myself shrinking, so I attempt to resize myself and hide my fear. As it gets closer, I begin to see what I can only guess is its eyes. It scans the terrain and as its eyes move towards the gates.

My nose begins to twitch when suddenly I feel a tug on my arm. I swear I can hear a squelch as my shoes are pulled from the puddle of Goodness-knows-what. Immediately all is silent, save for the scratching of the fall leaves on the sidewalk as the wind gently pushes them like a mother bird pushing her chicks from the nest. Except the birds seems to be hinting at something that I'm missing from the puzzle of it all.

"Matilda, why didn't you move?" Charlie asks me.

I don't answer. I'm too shocked to speak. Oddly enough I should be used to it, what with having experienced much more intense day terrors than this one. After a while, I shake it off.

"I-I don't know," I confess."Come on. We'd better get to school or we'll be late."


	11. Missing Mints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's disappeared...

** (Matilda's POV): **

When we arrive, the first site that catches my eye is a swarm of children whispering something to one another. A few snickers ripple through the crowd.

"What's up with them?" James asks.

"I don't know, but I don't think it's good," I reply worried.

I go up to the circle of children.

"What's happening?" I ask them, attempting to sound casual.

Immediately they cease the whispers and turn to me. Sophie Ballard steps from the crowd.

"Matilda, you're friends with Sophie Springer, right?" she asks me.

I file through my mind to match the name with the face. Long, brown hair with brown eyes and skin that's just a tad darker than mine. Not too popular among our class, but neither am I.

"Well, I talk to her sometimes, but-"

"You'd better talk to her now. She's in a state. She's outside of Mr. Turkentine's room.

"Why do you care?"

"We're just lookin' out for 'er best interests," a familiar voice drawls arrogantly.

Why Carmichael?

"Yeah right," I scoff as I walk away.  


Charlie and James follow behind as we come across a girl of about ten crying her eyes out.

"Sophie?" I ask gently.

She looks up and sniffs.

"Matilda?"

I sit down beside her.

"What happened?"

She gulps and takes a deep breath.

"It's Dani."

It takes me a while to remember; Dani Williams, Sophie's best friend. Long, light-blonde hair and bangs. She and Billie often played jacks together when Billie actually decided to come to school, which has only been for about a day. Otherwise she and Sophie would be together playing a hand game or something.

"Did you guys have a fight?"

She sniffs and shakes her head.

"She didn't come to school this morning."

"Maybe she's just running late?" I suggest.

Sophie shakes her head with a sniff.

"We always walk to school together. When I went to pick her up, her mother was in tears."

"Well, when did you last see her?"

"Yesterday. We were walking home together and then she and I passed by the Wonka factory. It's the only way home that has the candy shoppe in that route. As we walked by, she heard a noise and decided to follow it, even though I told her not to. She turned a corner and I haven't seen her since."

"Well, that's that. Let's get to class," James says.

Like a flash, I have his wrist in my grasp.

"Not so fast," I growl.  
"Sophie, where did the corner lead to?"

She thinks about it for a while.

"The side of the Wonka factory."

There it's popped up again. Odd, and slightly startling.

"Isn't that where Billie and Alfie were last seen before they disappeared?"

"Well, they were last seen around there, yeah," James remarks.

He gives me a look of suspicion.

"Matilda, what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything," I tell him.  
"However, I have a hunch there's a chance that the Wonka factory could somehow be related to the disappearances."

"Come off it, Mati," he exclaims.  
"There's no way it could be related. Dani's probably just playing hooky."

"Dani? Playing hooky? Get real," I scoff as I glare at him for calling me Mati.

"She would."

"I think Matilda may be onto something," Charlie points out.  
"Dani wouldn't be one to play hooky. She's too focused on her grades."

"That's exactly why she would. No one would think she would play hooky because she cares so much about school. In fact I'll prove it to you. Tomorrow we'll go to the factory and look behind there. I'll bet you she's hiding there waiting to scare us."

"You're just paranoid, lover boy," I scoff.

James's face start to turn red and I smirk. I know for a fact he's crushing on Dani.

"And besides, tomorrow's my birthday party and you promised to show up."

James gives a sigh.

"Fine. We'll go after your party. All four of us."

"Four?" I ask.

"You, me, Charlie, and Sophie."

"Alright. It's settled."

At that moment, the bell rings. As we head into class, I can't help but wonder if I made a mistake. Who knows? Maybe I'm right.


	12. French Frizzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veruca's slightly racist in this chapter. Just wanted to let you know in advanced. There's just one or two instances in this chapter of racism from Veruca. But she's a brat. What did you expect?

**(Matilda's POV):**

That night I sit at the desk in my room working on my French. Well, trying to anyway. It's very difficult to attempt homework while also attempting to block out your mother's television soap opera applied at maximum volume.

"Just like the amount of makeup she wears," I snicker.

I would ask her to turn it down, but it's no use. She claims she needs to hear it at the best volume in order to be totally into it. I pray for one of her umpteen fashion/gossip magazines to arrive in the post. Somehow she's able to get mail at any time of day or night. Probably thanks to my uncle. Like his daughter, my mother's got him under her thumb, which means unlimited cosmetics, soap operas, clothes, designer purses, etc,. for her. I don't know if it's bad for me to say this, but I sometimes wish he was the same with me. Perhaps I wouldn't do it as often, but maybe a candy kit once in a while wouldn't hurt.

Finally, thank God, the television turns down. At that moment, I hear the phone ringing.

"Be a dear and get the phone," Mum yells.  
"I don't want to miss the next episode."

I groan and snatch it up.

"Prescott residence. Matilda speaking," I greet formally.

"Bonsoir, little cousin," a snotty voice whines on the other end.

I forgot. She's older than me. By a day. And yet she still thinks that gives her the right to talk down to me.

"Oh hi, Veruca," I groan.  
"What do you want?"

"By any chance did you get the paper this morning?" she giggles.

"Yes, I did," I reply quite dryly.

"Anything interesting in there?"

Of course she's prying for the answer she wants. I wrack my mind for something else when one gets caught by my hand of ideas. Stock markets still exist in the great city, and they're doing exceptionally well, based on the calculations I did with Alfie before school started. I smirk. 

"Well, I suppose that the stock market's doing quite well now-"

"Not that rubbish! Me. I found the second golden ticket."

"So I gathered," I fume.

She gives a giggle on the other end, but then her mood flips like a light switch.

"I said I wanted Neapolitan ice cream from France, not vanilla!" she shrieks at the top of her lungs.

I'm not even on speaker, and I still have to hold the phone far away from my ear. Hopefully she didn't do any damage. Keyword: hopefully.

"So tell me. What are you up to?" she asks when she's been pacified.

"Just working on homework."

"Aww. Poor, wittwe Matiwda has to do homework."

I roll my eyes.

"What are you doing that could be better than getting an education?"

"I am getting a French mani-pedi, spa day, and massage with my birthday pooch Chambreau along with Neapolitan ice cream for my eleventh birthday at my mansion in Parie."

"I thought you were in São Paulo with your dad."

"São Paulo is so two days ago. My father couldn't get those ruddy natives to give up their macadamia trees. On top of that, that stupid reporter Fiona kept calling me Veronica. Anyway, aren't you jealous?"

"Sure," I scoff.

"Well, we can't always get what we want. Anyway, I have to get going. Chambreau is about to get his wittle puppy nails painted and I need to pick out his colors. I'll see you at your party tomorrow. Ciao!"

"Wait. What?" I gasp as the dial tone begins.

Veruca? At my birthday party? That _can't _be right! 

I rush into the living room.

"Mom!" I assert.  
"Did you invite-?"

I trail off.

After almost eleven years of living with her, I should be used to seeing my mom in so much makeup. I could make a bunch of jokes about it; how she never goes to the circus because someone would mistake her for a clown, how she never needs to wear a mask to scare kids on Halloween. The list goes on.

"What is it, Molly?" she asks.

I suppose the reporter that interviewed my cousin and my mom planned to mess our names up years before.

"My name is Matilda," I remind her.  
"Anyway, did you invite Veruca to my party?"

"No. I also invited her to spend the night with us."

I look at her, frustrated by how oblivious she is with the relationship between Veruca and I. Or the lack thereof.

"Mom, you know I can't stand her," I growl through bared teeth.

"Now, Madison-"

"Matilda."

"-I know you two may have had some rough patches, but tomorrow will be a good chance for you two to bond. Oh, I have so much scheduled for you two after the party; first a clothing shopping spree down at the shoppes. Next a mani-pedi and then a facial. After that a spa treatment, including a massage-"

I start to drone out my mom's words until I see her begin to finish.

"But mom, there's no way we'll ever get along. I'm me and she's her."

"Madeline, quit being a spoiled brat. I do so much for you. I feed you. I clothe you. I shelter you. And this is how you thank me?"

At this point, I've pretty much given up on trying to make sure she gets my name right, and even with this conversation. With a groan of frustration, I shake my head and head back to my room, slamming the door behind me.


	13. Library Lollies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of the party, Matilda, Charlie, Sophie, and James head off to the library to find some research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if you can spot at least 2 references in the fanfic. Let me know what you think they are.

**(Matilda's POV):**

I sit outside on my doorstep, waiting for the guests to arrive. It's a bit too early for the party, but I've got some early-comers. The cool air brushes against the birthday dress mom insisted on me wearing. Too frilly and pink for my taste, to be perfectly honest.

The heels of my black birthday shoes (also thanks to mom) click against the front stoop as I sit waiting. All the while, I keep thinking about ways to make sure Veruca doesn't spend the night at my house. Maybe add some nutmeg to her food? Veruca's terribly allergic, apparently.

"But I don't know if I'd want to potentially kill her," I sigh.

At that moment, three pairs of footsteps echo against the walkway up to the front stoop. I look up and smile as I see Charlie, James, and Sophie make their way over. In each of their hands is a package or gift bag.

"Thank goodness you're here. I need your help," I tell them as I stand up.

"With what?" Charlie asks as they set down the packages.

"Probably that dress," James snickers.

I glare at him in rage.

"I didn't choose to wear this," I growl.

"Well you did choose to get laughed at."

I give him a good punch in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You chose to be a dodo," I retort.  
"Anyway, my mom invited my bratty cousin Veruca to spend the night and I need your help to figure out how to make sure she doesn't. Without potentially killing her," I add as James begins to open his mouth. He knows about her supposed nutmeg allergy as well.

"Maybe we could add just a small portion of what's considered deadly," James suggests.  
"Plus Veruca wouldn't pass up any opportunity to outshine you unless she was sick."

"True, and think of what she's done to me."

"I don't know. This doesn't seem safe," Charlie hesitates.  
"On top of that, even if we were to go with the nutmeg, we don't know how much would kill her and how much would just make her sick."

"Good point," I groan.

I ponder this for a moment.

"Why not check the library?" Sophie suggests.  
"I'm sure they have a book on allergies and such."

I look at her in shock. Sophie, being the good girl of Mr. Turkentine's class, would be the last person I'd ever think to even make a suggestion that would help a plot like this.

"If you do some research, you can avoid potentially killing her," she adds.

"Oh. That makes much more sense," I say.

"Come on!"

* * *

We race to the library in five minutes flat.

"But what about the party?" Charlie inquires.  


"The party doesn't start for an hour. We can be back in plenty of time."

We march up to the reception desk.

"Excuse me. Where's the revenge section?" James trumpets to the librarian who has her face drilled into a book.

A sudden chorus hushes us. Blushing red, I give him a hard nudge on the shoulder.

"We need a book on allergies; one on how much of what is deadly and such," I whisper.

The librarian slams her book down _(cue chorus of shushing.)_ and I have to keep myself from cringing. Her nose looks needle sharp at the end. What's left of her eyes squints at the four of us. The mouth nearly scream strict.

"Are you planning to...kill someone?" she asks in a slightly-nasally voice.

Timidly we shake our heads. Slowly she stands up, turning into a tower. I begin to feel myself shrink again. She inhales our air and then exhale a wind tunnel. You can literally see the nose hairs be sucked into her nostrils and then shoot back out again.

"Second bookcase on the right. Second shelf from the top. Look for a large, brown book," she says slowly without flinching.

Frightened, we run to the shelf.

"Where's the shelf?" James asks.

"She said second from the top," I remind him.

"Well, then look up," Sophie suggests.

We look all around at the higher shelves, until-

"You might want to look further up," Charlie pipes up.

The three of us crane our necks upward to find the second-to-top shelf. I almost manage to fall back. Sticking out, almost as though it will fall over is a large, brown book.

"Well, there's only one thing to do," James says glancing at me.

"I am not letting you stand on my shoulders," I tell him.

His eyes look defeated.

"Why don't we just ask the librarian?" Sophie suggests.

"You mean the creepy one at the front desk? Not on your life," I whispered.   
"I have a better idea."

I back up a little and signal for the three of them to clear the way. Then I ram into the case. It shakes quite violently and pushes the book forward. I repeat this two more times. On the third, the book falls from the top shelf; so do fifty others.

"What was that?" we hear the librarian rasp angrily.

My heart jumps in my chest.

"What do we do?" Charlie whispers in a panic.

"Make a break for the exit?" James suggests.

"But there's an alarm system. We need to get the book scanned," Sophie reminds us 

(Of course she'd be the one to bring _that_ little detail up.).

I hear the librarian's footsteps pound on the floor and my blood rushes through my veins.

"You three get out first. I'll scan the book and make a break for it," I say.

"But what if she catches you?" Charlie asks.

"Better me than you lot. Now go. I'll meet you outside."

The three of them rush to the exit as I make a break for the circulation desk. Quickly I find the barcode and scan the book.

"You!" The librarian hisses as she spots me.

The color drains quickly from my face as the hushes bounce around. In a panic, I make a break for the exit; leaving the librarian in her rage, the four of us dash back to my house.


	14. Nutmeg Nougats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover a few fun facts about nutmeg and the "fun" has just begun.

**(Matilda's POV):**

After picking up the packages that were left, we make it to my room and the four of us manage to catch our breaths. Charlie, James, and Sophie lay their packages below the foot of my bed. Flopping down on it, I lay the book on my lap and begin to skim through it until I reach the section on nutmeg.

"Listen to this," I tell them.  
"_While allergic reactions to nutmeg are considered fairly rare, it can be extremely dangerous even if you aren't allergic._"

"Hey. Isn't nutmeg a type of tree nut?" James asks.

I look up from the book in confusion and frustration.

"What?"

"I mean, it has the word nut in the name."

I shake my head in disbelief and look back down.

"_Freshly-grounded nutmeg contains myristicin, a psychoactive substance as well as a monoamine oxidase inhibitor. Even in small doses, such as 5 grams, the myristicin found in nutmeg powder can bring about convulsions, hallucinations, and the like within 2-6 hours; recovery is usually within twenty-four hours of ingestion. Myristicin is also used as an antidepressant, but only as a last resort treatment. _That means, even if she was lying when she said she had a nutmeg allergy, she could still have a reaction if I play my cards right."

"No seriously. Isn't it a tree nut?" James interrupts.

"What's that have to do with anything?" I snap as I slap the book down on my lap.

"I was just curious."

"Marie, the guests are here!" my mom calls from downstairs.

"Great," I groan as I set the book down.

"Why the sarcasm?" James asks.

"They're mostly daughters of my mom's friends. And they're all just like my mom."

* * *

For about half an hour, the party is mega brat-free. Keyword: mega. But that's not to say the guests are modest. Their starched ironed clothes and heavy makeup give off the impression they're all beauty pageant contestants. And conversation-wise, all they do is rattle each others' ears off about how their daddy bought them this and their mummy called them that. For me, making conversation with them always ends in failure.

"My daddy bought me a castle," one of them sniffs.

"Well, my daddy bought me a castle AND a summer house," scoffs the other.

"What about you, Maya?" the first girl asks in a huff; her long dirty blonde hair in tight curls and her light-brown eyes judging me with every single movement.

Both of them glue their eyes to me, waiting for a response.

"I got an A on my arithmetic test," I say casually.

The two laugh haughtily.

"Who needs school when you're pretty?" asks the first girl.

"I don't," says the second.

"But she does," the first scoffs pointing at Sophie.  
"She's not even close to pretty. I can't even stand to look at her. Her clothes and hair are so plain and ugly. I suppose it's fitting to her face."

"But look at him," the second says glaring at James.

"That curly, brown-haired one?" The first asks.

"The one with the glasses. He looks nerdy."

"Indeed. He'll never get a girlfriend."

"And look at that skinny boy. The one in the rags. Can you believe she's friends with a street urchin?"

"I bet he's covered in filth. The dirty street urchin. He deserves to starve for being so filthy."

That's more than I can stand to hear. In fury I grab them by the collars.

"Talk about my friends like that again," I growl under my breath so mom won't hear.  
"And I'll knock your prissy little behinds into next year."

I let go of their collars, knocking them to the floor, and they start to whine.

"Now look what you've done!"

"You've ruined our Chanel Princess gowns!"

"Oh bug off," I grumble.

Okay. I take back what I said about the party being mega brat-free. Even without Veruca, this is basically Bratcon. I literally have no sympathy for them. In the heat of fury, I stand by the wall next to Sophie, Charlie, and James.

"Having fun yet?" James jokes.

"Shut up, dodo," I snap.

All of a sudden, I hear the doorbell ring and an unfortunately-familiar voice pierces the air.

"Yoo-hoo, Matilda!" Veruca giggles.

I stand stiff on the wall hoping my mom won't make me let her in.

"MacKenzie, let your cousin in!" my mom snaps.

With a groan, I trump towards the front door and open it. Standing in the doorway are my uncle Nigellius and my cousin Veruca. Both carry packages wrapped in sparkly pink paper. Along with it, they're both wearing overly-starched outfits made of pink silk with white lace on Veruca's sleeves. On Veruca's feet are frilly white socks and spit-polished black dress shoes with a pink bow on each shoe. The mere sight of it is enough to make me sick.

"Hello, Matilda," my uncle greets me.

Let me tell you a little something about him. He's actually the only one out of my mom's family that I can stand. He doesn't push me to be a girly-girl, at least when it's just him and me together, but even if he is, he always just phrases it as a suggestion. Like, "How about you wear a frilly dress?" Something I could easily say "No" to.

"Hi, Uncle Nigel," I greet him.

Veruca, eager to steal the spotlight, thrusts the package at her dad and shoves me to the floor. As she runs inside, I can hear the other prissy girls oohing and ahh-ing over her.

"You alright, Matilda?" my uncle asks as he helps me up.

"Yeah. I'd be better if I could wear something else, though. Silky pink with frills doesn't really suit me."

I notice that Nigel is struggling, so I take the packages from him and place them on the gift table, heavily decorated in a frilly pink table cloth.

"Wow. I love your dress," the girls coo over Veruca.

"Do you really have a mansion in Paris?"

"Can I see Chambreau sometime?"

Veruca giggles and struts around the center of the crowd as she holds a cup of punch in one hand, curtseying every so often.

"The little brat," I growl under my breath.

In that moment, I know it's time I do something about her sickening arrogance.

"Let's spice up this party a bit," I say to myself with a knowing smirk.

Quietly I slip away from the crowd.


	15. Bratty Bars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party ends in an.....interesting fashion.

**(Matilda's POV):**

Several hours later, we go through gifts. The girls reluctantly crowd around me and one by one, I open their packages. Or more appropriately, the "Barely-Know-Me Boxes." In them I find:

-Several dozen frilly hair bows.

-Endless bottles of perfume.

-Too many dresses.

-The World's Entire Supply of Dolls, Doll Clothes, and Doll Play sets.

-At least five pink diaries with matching pink, glittery, gel pens.

-An entire pink mani-pedi set from Paris, courtesy of my cousin, who thankfully preceded to whine at her father that she wanted it, so I had to give it back to her.

And way too many things I never even wanted in the first place.

The only things I get from them that's actually worth keeping are a coupon from my uncle which entitles me to at least two dozen free Wonka bars at the candy store, though I'm not even sure how that's legal, along with two Wonka Nut-a-rific bars and three Wonka chocolate marshmallow creme bar from one of the girls. I slip them into my dress pocket for fear of my mom taking them away.

From there comes cake; of course it's a pink cake that my mom ordered all the way from Paris. As Charlie, James, and Sophie line up for a piece of cake, they get pushed to the back along with me. When we get to the front, my mom stops my friends in their tracks.

"I'm sorry, but you aren't allowed to have this cake," she sniffs with an air of disapproval.

This infuriates me.

"That's not fair, mom!" I snap.  
"They're guests too. They should be able to have cake just like any other person here!"

"Oh, grow up, Mayzie," she scoffs.

"But mom-!"

"She said grow up! Dirty street urchins don't deserve cake," says the light-brown eyed girl; the one who called Sophie ugly and called Charlie a dirty street urchin earlier.

My face begins to burn in anger. All I see around me is red. In the center of my vision is that girl's piece of cake. It isn't fair how the spoiled brats get to have my cake, but my friends don't. I just wish it would explode in their faces. I want them to be dirty on the outside as well as on the inside. I see thousands of tiny, red hands stretching out in front of me towards the girl's slice of cake.

_"Make it explode,"_ I think.  
_"Make **her** the dirty street urchin."_  


Some of the hands slip under the bottom of the plate while some slip underneath the slice of cake. They slowly lower themselves, readying to strike. Then in a flash, they shoot back up and fling the cake onto her face and dress. I hear her screaming in disgust.

"My dress! My hair. My face!" she whines.  
"Ruined! All ruined."

The others rush around her as if they'd found a barely-breathing baby bird.

"Who's the dirty street urchin now?" I growl under my breath with a satisfied smirk.

In truth I'm full of satisfaction and surprise. I'm not entirely sure where I learned how to do that, yet I'm glad at least someone got what was coming to her.

"What happened, Taylor?" they ask.

"It was Marcie!" she spits pointing at me.  
"She did it!"

The other girls gasp and look at me disgust.

"You idiot!" I exclaim with a smirk and a scoff.  
"I didn't even move from my spot."

"I'm not surprised that she did it," the second comments.  
"If she were proper, she wouldn't have."

"But she's just a mistake," Taylor and the others spit.

The word echoes around in my ears. I begin to see red again and the same thing happens. This time I target the other girls' pieces. One by one, each of them fly in their faces, resulting in an endless stream of disgusted screams.

"Oh grow up," I scoff to myself.

"Daddy, I want her to apologize now!" Veruca spits as she jumps up and down in fury.  
"Now! Now! Now-!"

All of a sudden, she stops and sways a bit. The blood fades from her face and then she stiffens up, falling to the carpeted floor. Immediately we gather around her. For a moment or two, nothing happens. Then, suddenly, she begins to convulse and shake wildly.

"Veruca, sweetheart!" my uncle exclaims, picking her up and trying to hold her steady.  
"I'd better get her to the hospital."

"But the sleepover-!" my mother exclaims.

"Maybe another day!"

And with that, he rushes out in a flash. Immediately, Taylor struts up to me in fury.

"Look at what you've done!" she snaps.  
"You really are a mistake. You're a witch. A bad witch!"

"Oh shut up!" I spit.  
"Bad witches are ugly and heartless, so really you're the bad witch."

She gasps and begins to throw a temper tantrum.

"This is the worst party ever. I want to go home right now and I want that witch burnt at the stake!"

At that moment, all of their parents pull up. Like a machine, they file out one by one while complaining to each other. I turn to look at Charlie, James, and Sophie and nod at them. The three of them rush up to my room with as little noise as possible. I turn back to my mom.

"Is Veruca going to be alright?" I ask with only a slither of concern.

"I don't know. I'm not a doctor."

She sounds incredibly irritated.

"Now, Madeleine, you are going to write an apology to every single one of those girls for what you did."

"But I didn't do anything. And anyway, they were worse! You heard them. They called me a mistake! If anything, THEY should be apologizing to ME!"

"No excuses, young lady! Now you march up to your room and think about what you've done. And until you behave, you will not use their lovely gifts they bought you."

_Fine by me,_ I think as I head upstairs, quickly stuffing the small container of nutmeg and the measuring spoons into my dress pocket.

Not before do I touch the first step do I hear my mother say these very words.

"They're right. That brat I'm supposed to call my daughter is a mistake. She's nothing like a girl should be. Matilda's too caught up in this stupid science stuff. It's not right. I ought to fix her."

With my eyes widened, I rush upstairs.


	16. Present Patties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once it's all finished, the three friends hand Matilda their gifts and then they all try to work out how to find Dani.

** (Matilda's POV): **

"That ignorant, old witch!" I grumble as I pace back and forth in my room.

"It's alright, Matilda," Sophie says hesitantly.  
"I wouldn't have wanted your mother's cake anyway."

"No, it's not that. It's the fact that they were calling you dir-dirt-"

I can't bring myself to say it. It feels like a betrayal to say it.

"Dirty street urchins?" Charlie asks.

I nod sadly.

"It's fine. I get called that a lot."

"But it's not fine. You're not dirty street urchins. You're not even street urchins. Something has to be done."

Quickly I slip on a pair of jeans under my dress and a casual blue t-shirt in place of that frumpy pink monster. As I take it off, the various items I stuffed in the pocket fall out. I look at the Wonka bars and take them. I hand a chocolate marshmallow creme to each of them.

"Here. My gift to you. To make up for the cake."

"But Matilda, these are your birthday presents," Charlie reminds me.  
"You love Wonka candy."

"I do, but I'm allergic to dairy. I wouldn't be able to eat these without getting an upset stomach, even though I really want to. Besides, it's the least I can do to make up for what happened. And here."

I give Charlie the Nut-a-rific bars.

"Tell Grandma Josephine I send my regards."

"But what about the competition? I know you want that golden ticket."

"I'm sure I can manage without them. Besides I can use this coupon my uncle gave me for a few dozen of them to help us get ahead in the competition."

"But Matilda-"

"Please, Charlie," I tell him sadly.  
"Take it. Please. I WANT you to have it."

He gives it some thought and then takes the bars.

"Thanks," he tells me.

"Say, why don't you open up your gifts?" James asks.

I look at him in confusion.

"But I already-"

That's when I spy the gifts below the foot of my bed. With a giant in my eyes and a smile on my face, I grab them and hop on my bed. The first one is from Sophie. A fairly tall, thin, messily wrapped package from her. In a flash, I tear the wrapping paper off. Inside is a small basket of Wonka candy, along with a few other trinkets hidden within.

"Wasn't this the basket in the candy shoppe window display?" I ask her.

"Yep."

"Wow. Thanks," I remark in awe.

Next, a dozen Wonka bars and a book from James.

"You know I can't have dairy, you dodo," I tell him.

But before I can punch his shoulder, the cover of the book catches my eye. A small girl sitting on a stack of books with a book on her lap as she gazes at another stack of books. She looks eerily familiar. I almost feel like I am her, but I can't quite put my finger on why or how.

"_Matilda_ by Roald Dahl," I read.  
"Never heard of this one."

"It's about a book lover whose family doesn't understand her and somehow she develops telekinetic powers. It sounded a bit like you, so I thought 'Why not?'"

"Cool. Thanks!"

The final one is a fair-sized rectangular package that reads "From Charlie and James." I shake it around a little and hear the banging of vials and the shaking of powder.

"No," I gasp.  
"It couldn't be."

Slowly I peel the wrapping away.

"It is!" I exclaim.  
"_Advanced Deluxe Candy Confectionary Chemistry Kit for the Creative Adolescent Genius._ How did you manage to get it?"

"Well, we pooled what we had together, scraped up a little more, and there," James explains.

I'm rendered speechless. Entranced, I trace the gold lettering of the kit as if it's a treasure. And, to me, it is.

"Thank you," I say through a choked voice.

Tears of joy stream down my face until I realize the inevitable. Quickly I take the kit and stuff it in my sock drawer.

"Why'd you do that?" James asks.

"If my mom sees this, she'll kill me. Or get someone else to do it for her. She'd probably think killing isn't ladylike and shouldn't even be done by women."

Despondently I sit back down on the bed.

"Hey, Matilda," James pipes up.  
"Why did those girls call you a witch? You're not a witch, right?"

I shrug my shoulders halfheartedly.

"Did it have anything to do with the cake thing?"

I shrug again.

"I think it was my fault," I answer.

"How can you think it was your fault?" Sophie asks inquiringly.

"I'm still trying to decide whether it was or not. I just got so angry that-"

I sigh in defeat and shake my head.

"Never mind. Even you guys wouldn't believe me."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie asks incredulously.  
"Of course we would."

"No, you wouldn't. It even sounds crazy to me. It felt crazy, but also natural and almost commonplace."

"What felt that way?" Sophie asks.

I sigh.

"Listen to this, when I got angry, all I could see around me was red. Next these little red hands came out from somewhere and slipped under either the cake slice or the plate. And then they flung them upwards into their faces!"

The three of them look at me in a mixture of awe and confusion.

"Why do you say it felt crazy, yet natural?"

"I don't know. I feel like-like I did it many times before. But years ago, many years ago. And in a different place."

"Odd," Charlie remarks.

"As stimulating as this conversation is," James suddenly pipes up.  
"We need to get to the factory and find that prankster Dani."

"I know she's not pranking," Sophie defends in a suddenly-anxious tone.  
"It's not like her to disappear so mysteriously."

"Either way we should check the factory."

"But what about my mom?" I point out.  
"If she catches me sneaking out, who knows what she'll do?"

The four of us sit lost in thought, looking for a solution. Suddenly James snaps his fingers, runs over to a corner of my room, and picks up a burlap sack and a rope.

"I have an idea."


	17. Secret Patty Swishters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They begin the plan to get to the factory.

**(Matilda's POV):**

"That is such a _stupid_ idea," I exclaim angrily after James explains his idea.

He proposed for me to slip inside the sack and have the three of them carry me out of the house.

"Well, it's the only way you'll be able to help us find Dani."

"If you think I'm getting in that sack, you've got another thing coming."

"We'll be real careful. Promise."

"You know, we could just sneak out without the bag. My mom's a little ditzy, so I doubt she'll notice me sneaking out. She'd notice much more if you three were carrying a body in that sack. She'd think you offed me."

"But would she care?"

I ponder this for a moment.

"Well, she doesn't care enough to get my first name right. And especially since she gets it wrong on purpose. But I'm not leaving without the bare necessities."

Quickly I snatch my notebook of ideas, a pencil, the basket with the Wonka bars so we can keep up with the competition, and the _Matilda_ book.

"What about the kit?" James asks.

"Are you nuts? That thing would break in there."

Carefully I step inside and position myself.

"Speaking of things breaking," I say glaring at James.  
"If you hurt me in anyway, I'll break every single bone in your body."

* * *

**(Sophie's POV):**

Carefully we creep down the stairs. Charlie and James hold the bag on one end while I take ahold of the other. As soon as we get to the bottom, James peeks around the corner. He leans over and whispers something to Charlie. After a small exchange, they motion for me to follow. We take the bag to the front with an occasional raspy cry of pain from within.

"It doesn't look like her mom's here," I remark in a whisper in case I'm wrong.

"Must've gone shopping or something," James says.

"Shouldn't we let her out?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

I give him a glare. I'm not as threatening as Matilda can get with him, but I try. After a minute, he gives a groan of defeat.

"Fine."

As we set the bag down on the floor to let her out, I feel a pinch of worry inside of me.

"Careful. Careful," I keep telling the guys.

Suddenly James hands slip. I hear a loud thump and a yell of pain from Matilda followed by semi-quiet, angry mumbling as if she's trying to keep herself from swearing aloud.

"What did I tell you?" I growl at him.

"It was an accident," he claims.

"Sure."

The three of us untie the bag to let out a gasping Matilda.

"Thank goodness!" she exclaims.  
"I can breathe again."

Suddenly the stillness and silences catches her off-guard.

"Wait. Where's my mom?"

Matilda runs over to the window to check the street.

"Went out shopping, I suppose?" James asks innocently.

Slowly she turns to him with glaring hawk eyes and steps towards him. Every step she takes towards him, he takes two back.

"You mean to tell me that I huddled in that bloody sack for nothing?"

"Well, I didn't know if your mom was still here."

She begins to twitch a little.

"You say that your hand slipping was an accident?" she growls, her voice rising in volume.  
"I'll show you an accident, you dodo!"

She prepares to lunge at him and I realize that if something isn't done, things are going to get messy.

"Hey!" I snap.

The three of them look at me in shock. I'm shocked myself. Normally I'm kind of soft-spoken. Nevertheless I press on.

"Fighting isn't going to get us anywhere. The more time we spend fighting, the less time we may have to find Dani and get her back safely."

"She's right," Charlie exclaims.  
"Who knows when Matilda's mom will be back? If we keep fighting, we could still be here when she does and then where would we be?"

"Now do you two promise that you won't fight as long as it takes to find Dani?"

The two of them glare at one another and then sigh, turning back to face me.

"We promise," they each tell me reluctantly.

Matilda bends back into the sack and picks up what she left inside.

"Good. Then let's get going."

As I turn my back, I hear a small thud and an "Ow!" from James.

"Matilda!" I exclaim.

She groans in frustration.

"At least I wasn't trying to break his neck."


	18. Factory Fruities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive just outside of the gates, and split in half.

** (Matilda's POV): **

I'm a bit reluctant to go back after the incidents, but I decide it's for the good of everyone. Besides, I may be able to find out why I experienced what I did.

"Here it is," Sophie exclaims.

I look up at the Wonka factory to find that it's much larger than last time.

"Where did she disappear to?" I ask Sophie.

Briefly she takes in the scenery to recall exactly where.

"There," she answers pointing to an opening near the gates.  
"It's supposed to lead to the side of the factory."

Even though it's surprisingly warm for an evening in late September, chills run up my spine.

"Alright. You two go on and find her," I tell Sophie and James.

"Why us?" James asks.

"You're the ones who want to prove things."

"Touché."

"What about you and Charlie?" Sophie asks worried.

"We'll stay here and keep a look out. Should you get into any trouble, make as much noise as possible and we'll come help."

Sophie nods and makes her way through the opening.

"Sophie?" I say.

She turns back to me.

"Yeah?"

"Tell Dani I said hi and you be careful."

She gives me a smile.

"I will."

Then in a moment, she's swallowed by the shadow that the fence casts.

"Be careful, James."

"Are you actually going to come help?" he asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You said that you wouldn't be saving our rear ends ever again."

"Not unless your lives were at stake."

"Does that include being turned into squirrels?"

"Well, if the chances of that happening were even remotely possible," I scoff.

"But-"

"You'll be fine. I'll see you as a human."

He gives a swift nod and, in a moment, follows Sophie into the swallowing shadow.

"And now," I say as Charlie and I sit down on the ground.  
"We wait."


	19. Lovely Licorice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two friends spend time thinking of one another until reality hits them in the face.

**(Matilda's POV):**

We sit there for what seems like days, maybe weeks. I begin to feel a little worried.

"Matilda?" Charlie asks me suddenly.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"You okay?"

I shrug my shoulders. All of a sudden, I feel an arm come around from the back and a hand set itself upon my right shoulder. I look next to me to see that Charlie has wrapped his arm around me. My cheeks begin to burn a little.

"I guess I'm worried," I confess.  
"Seems like they've been gone for days."

"Yeah."

I look around the area. It's pretty quiet, all things considered.

"It's getting pretty dark. Shouldn't you be getting back?" I ask him.

"Not until you want to head back."

"I'm willing to wait as long as necessary."

Another code of Wonkarer conduct is to never leave another Wonkarer behind, no matter what. But that's not so much why I want to head back. But on the other hand, there's the matter with my mother.

Suddenly I feel a light hit my head. I look up to see the moonlight shining down on the two of us.

"Matilda, are you sick?" Charlie asks.

"No. Why?"

"Well, your cheeks."

"What about them?"

"They're really red."

"So are yours," I remark.

It's true. His cheeks are burning red. In a flash, I move away.

"I'm just-cold, is all," I lie.

"Same," he tells me.

* * *

**(Charlie's POV):**

For a few moments, we sit in silence. But it's no ordinary silence; it's the kind of awkward silence that only new eleven year olds feel around each other in a situation like this.

At an impulse, I take a small glance at Matilda. But soon I'm caught in her eyes. I never noticed how her eyes twinkled like that. It's not an ordinary twinkle; the kind that mother told me every girl has. No, this one's special. This is an eye twinkle that tells you that Matilda is not like every other girl. She's a girl with ideas. Full of ambition, intelligence, passion, imagination. She doesn't really think about being pretty and that's why I guess we're friends. She's a special girl. One might mistake her for Wonka's daughter.

"Charlie, you okay?" I hear her ask me in a lyrical voice.

"Huh?" I mumble in confusion.  
"Oh yeah. I'm good."

* * *

**(Matilda's POV):**

Something about my mind seems to be a bit off. I get out my book of ideas and try to center myself back by writing in it, but my mind's bouncing all over like a wild pinball.

"What's that?" Charlie asks.

I look up at him in confusion.

"I've never told you about this?"

He shakes his head. My eyes widen in a mixture of excitement and fear. What on earth would he think? I look around to make sure we're alone.

"If I show you this, you have to promise you will never tell another soul as long as you live."

"I promise."

"And if you break the promise, that may not be very long."

What? He may probably be my best friend, but that doesn't mean he gets special privileges. After looking around for signs of any other life, I beckon him in closer and whisper.

"For, you see, this is my ideas notebook."

"Isn't that the notebook you bring with you to school everyday?"

I nod.

"My father gave it to me when I was turning six. He knew how much I loved candy. In fact, he was the one who introduced me to Wonka's treats."

I bring the book into the light. For a few moments, his eyes devour the words on the pages.

"Amazing," he gasps.  
"Marshmallows with hot chocolate centers. Candy-flavored cough drops. Gummy Grapplers. How do you come up with these?"

I shrug my shoulders.

"They just come to me, I suppose. Perhaps my father helped inspire me as well."

"What did your father do?"

"He used to work at a lab somewhere. But one day, he came home really shaken, almost as if he'd been visited by a ghost. Then the next day, when he was going off to work, he hugged mom and I a lot longer than normal, almost as if he knew it was the last time we would see him."

"How come he was so shaken?"

"He never told me why. In fact, after that day, he never contacted us. No letters, no voicemails, nothing. Nowadays I never see him, and honestly it is a bit saddening. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be blathering on about such a dark topic."

"Oh," he remarks a bit sadly.  
"It's okay. Just a bit sad to hear all that, but I'm used to it."

Suddenly the wind picks up and I hear the crumpling of paper coming down the streets. Quickly I grab hold of the papers and bring them into the light.

"It's a dollar bill and today's newspaper," I say.  
"_Two More Tickets Found; Wonka Contest Nearing The End._"

I don't really pay attention to the names. All I know is that we need to find those tickets. Quickly I grab the bars and divvy them out between the two of us.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"There's not a lot of time left. Four of the five tickets have been found. We need to find that last ticket. And soon."


	20. Golden Gumdrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one's out of the game yet.

** (Matilda's POV): **

After five minutes, we've gone through all of the Wonka bars except for one; the last of the two Nut-a-rifics I gave to Charlie to give to his grandmas.

"Let's open them."

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

He nods.

"A golden ticket is worth more than all the Wonka bars in the world."

"You open it," I tell him.

"No, you do it. It's your bar."

"No, I gave it to you."

"But-"

I groan.

"How about we open it together?"

I place the newspaper underneath.

"Here. You take one end and I'll get the other."

We prepare to open the bar.

"Wait," Charlie exclaims in a hushed whisper.  
"If we find the ticket, only one of us can go. What then?"

"Easy. You take the ticket," I say.

He shakes his head.

"No, you take it. I know you want to meet Mr. Wonka more than anything."

"You deserve it more," I argue.  
"You love chocolate and you only get a bar a year for your birthday."

"I can wait until next year. Everything's better when it's a rarity anyway."

"But you at least have people who support you in your love for Wonka," I remind him.  
"If my mom found me with the ticket, I bet she'd rip it to pieces in front of me. I don't want it to go to waste."

There's no way I'm changing my mind. Charlie deserves this more than I do. He sighs in defeat.

"Alright. I'll go. And I promise I'll tell Mr. Wonka about you."

"You don't have to."

"You know I want to."

I smile at him.

"On three. For a chance to visit our idol," I whisper excitedly.  
"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

We tear the wrapper off. That's when my heart drops. Not even the tiniest sign of gold anywhere.

"Well," Charlie sighs.  
"I guess that's that."

He looks down at the ground and I can see a small tear fall down his eye. I know the prize means a lot to him. The poor kid's down on his luck; his father's lost his job. He gets picked on at school. He's too skinny to be healthy. I slide over next to him and wrap my arm around him.

"Hey," I say reassuringly.  
"It's not over yet, Charlie. We've still got more chances."

"No, Matilda," he says in an angry hushed whisper, shaking his head.  
"_You_ still have more chances. I'm out of the game."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you get it? Out of all of us Wonkarers, I'm the one with the worst chances at finding that last ticket. I mean, yeah, I want it more than anything else, but just hoping never gets you anywhere. You've gotta work for a dream to make it come true, but I don't have the resources. I don't have a lot of money. This means I'm out!"

"Charlie-"

"Don't act like it's not true," his voice chokes a little.

He takes a moment to try to recollect himself, and I choke up as well, until I remember the other thing I managed to catch. I hand him the dollar bill.

"Here," I tell him.  
"You're not out of the game yet, golden boy."

"Well, even then it wouldn't guarantee anything."

"But it's still a chance. We should be getting home soon. I suppose we've been here for hours."

At this he gives me a small sad smile.

"You're a wonder, Matilda."

He stands up and helps me collect my stuff.

"Maybe you should call the police," he tells me.

At this I suddenly remember why we even came here in the first place.

"Oh yeah. I probably should."

I hand him the basket with the opened Wonka bars and place the other Nut-a-rific inside.

"Tell your Grandmas I send my regards."

"I will."

All of a sudden, he pulls me into a hug. I feel like my whole stomach is bouncing around. Gently I hug him back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, wonderspark."

I'm confused.

"Wonderspark?"

"You called me golden boy. Why shouldn't you have a nickname as well?"

"Sure. But why Wonderspark?"

"Because you always have a spark of wonder inside of you."

I blush a little at this.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"See you tomorrow, golden boy," I tell him.

He smiles and then runs off. I double-check to make sure I have everything.

"See you tomorrow, golden boy," I repeat to myself as I walk home.

The phrase itself is sweeter than any candy I've ever tasted.


	21. Confession Chocolates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you get to see a running gag or two from the production.

**(Charlie's POV):**

I burst into the shack with a mix of excitement and some other feeling I can't describe.

"Young man, where have you been?" my mother asks me worried.

"Sorry. I was out with Matilda."

"You really should let me know when you're going to be gone longer."

"Oh, leave him alone, Hannah," my dad exclaims.  
"A young boy needs his time with his friends."

"Who's tying up loose ends?" Grandpa George asks with a yawn as he sits up.

He nudges Grandma Georgina.

"Georgina, someone's tying up loose ends."

Grandma Georgina and Grandma Josephine yawn and sit up.

"George, you old coot!" Grandpa Joe exclaims.  
"He said that a young boy need his time with his friends."

"Yes, I love coffee blends!"

"Friends!" Georgina, Joe, and Josephine yell.

"Alright! I'm not deaf, you know."

"Charlie, what's in the basket?" Georgina asks.

"Did your girlfriend Matilda give you a gift?" Josephine follows.

The two women laugh as I blush heavily.

"Matilda's not my girlfriend. And I don't like her that way."

"Now, Charlie. You shouldn't lie to your grandparents like that," Josephine scolds me playfully.

"Who's seen a rat?" George asks.

"George, she didn't say rat. She said that," Georgina clarifies with frustration.

"I'm not lying," I claim.

"Now, Charlie," Josephine tells me.  
"I've seen how you look at her. You really think she's somethin' special, don't you?"

Guiltily, I look down at the floor.

"Ooh-Hoo-Hoo-Hoo!" Georgina and Josephine whoop.

"You DO love her!" Georgina tells me through laughter.

I nod slightly.

"Maybe."

"I knew it," Josephine says matter-of-factly.  
"Anyway, what's in that basket?"

"Oh. Right."

I place it on the bed.

"Matilda sends her regards."

Once again, my Grandmas start whooping and hollering with delight.

"Chocolate!" they say.

"And Nut-a-rifics!" Josephine exclaims.  
"Please marry that girl, Charlie."

"Indeed," Georgina agrees.  
"Marry her as soon as possible."

"Why? She wouldn't want to marry me. I don't think she even likes me in that way."

"Well, you never know," my mom tells me.  
"She could be feeling the exact same way about you, but is just too shy to admit it."

"Matilda? Shy? Impossible!" I exclaim.  
"She doesn't seem like the type of girl who'd get shy about anything."

"Like I said, you never know."

"Your mother's right," my father pipes up.  
"When I met her, I was too shy to tell her how I felt. I was afraid she would reject me and then all my friends would laugh at me and-"

"Ethan!" my mother snaps.

He gives her a look of embarrassment.

"Right. Anyway, after a lot of pep talk from my friends, I just decided to go straight up to her and tell her how I felt."

"And?"

The two look at one another.

"He found out I felt the exact same way about him," my mother says.  
"I was just too shy to say anything."

Strange. My mother doesn't seem like the shy type.

"Now you'd better get ready for bed, Charlie. It's late."

"Can't Grandpa Joe just tell me one Wonka story?" I beg.  
"Just one? Please?"

I give her a pleading look and she sighs.

"All right. But just one. And no zombie worker stories. You need your sleep."

"You guys mind if pop tells Charlie a bedtime story?" Dad asks the others.

By this time, the others have fallen asleep.

"I guess not."


	22. Fighting Fireballs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contrasting family dynamic. 
> 
> Be careful what you wish for.
> 
> (CW: Fighting, not-really-bloody violence)

**(Matilda's POV):**

I skip home in half a daze, still tasting the name golden boy. In fact I seem to be too dazed to notice anything until I bump into something. Or someone.

"Mary!" my mother shrieks.

I snap out of my daze.

"Huh?"

In a flash she whips out a box; my kit.

"What is this?" she snaps.

I try to hide my fear away.

"What?" I ask attempting to seem surprised.  
"How did _that_ get in here?"

"Don't play games with me! I know you had it hidden."

I realize there's no sense in playing oblivious.

"Where did you find it?"

"You left a drawer open in your room and this monstrosity was sticking out. I've let you get away for too long. It's high time that you change yourself."

"Change myself? I don't need to change myself."

"Oh yes you do. And that was why I went out and talked to a psychiatrist earlier today. He told me you need to know who you're supposed to be. And to start, you are not allowed to associate yourself with those street urchins any longer. To follow, all of your clothes must be either dresses or pink. Your room will be redecorated. You are not to think. You must wear makeup. And no more of this rubbish you call candy."

Taking my kit, she walks over to the fireplace.

"Mom?" I ask worried.  
"What-what are you going to do with it?"

She gives me a look of fury.

"Something I should've done to the likes of the kit a long time ago."

I look to her and then the fire. And it all becomes clear.

"Mom, no," I gasp.

She prepares her arm.

"Please no. Don't. My friends! They worked so hard to buy me it. Mom, please!"

I'm almost on the verge of tears and soon I hear the crackling of the fire explode as the kit lands among the embers.

A lump quickly forms in my throat and tears well up in my eyes. Fury flashes through me. How could she have been so heartless?

"You monster!" I growl.  
"Don't you know how much money they scraped together to buy it for me?"

"I don't care. I am the mother and you are the child and what I say goes. And what I say goes next is that."

With an accusing finger, she points at the very thing I plan to take to my grave; my notebook.

"Hand it over, Matilda," she hisses.  
"Your days of thinking are over."

She actually knows my real name! So it wasn't just a coincidence when she said it earlier that day. My eyes begin to see red again. Heat pulsates through my body as the long-seeded, and now unbridled, rage accumulates into this very moment. Every atom around me sends bursts of energy and the red hands emerge once more.

"No," I say plainly.

She gives me a look of shock and anger.

"What did you just say to me?" she asks with a punch to each word.

I remain in my state of passive anger, slowly becoming aggressive.

"I said no," I spit.  
"Parents are supposed to nurture and encourage the interests in their children. For as long as I can remember, not only have you refused to nurture or encourage my interests, but you have attempted to oppress them as well."

The hands begin to move forward.

"You don't care about what I like," I continue, my voice changing.  
"You don't even see me as an individual, but instead as a block of clay to be molded into a mini-you. Well, news flash. I am not a block of clay nor will I ever be a mini-you!"

They begin to divide and conquer, each group handling an item in the room. Soon they prepare to strike.

"You can make me wear pink. You can try to suppress my thoughts and ideas. But over my dead, unyielding body will you ever-and I mean ever-burn up my notebook."

I'm about to unleash the monster hands when all of a sudden, I feel a rippling sting in my face. I hear a hard slap and my face throws itself to the right. Some of the hands retract, dropping the items.

"Matilda, stop this right now!" I hear my mother crow angrily as she pulls her hand away from my face.

Another hand reaches up and I hear the same hard slap, but I don't feel any pain.

The red fades from my eyes and I glance around until my eye catches sight of a mirror. On my left cheek is a giant red mark. I look back to my mother and I see that my hand is out and blaring red. I look to her face to find the same red mark on her cheek only smaller. That's when I realize that it was not a small red hand that slapped my mother, but my own hand.

She gives me a look of stone-cold anger.

"Go straight up to your room and pack your things, young lady. Tomorrow you will be sent to the ward. I know psychiatric treatment will straighten you out and perhaps some shock therapy."

"Never!" I scream as I run to the front door. 

I push it open and step out. Then I turn back to my mother to say something that I wish I'd said to her ever since this began.  


"I hate you. I wish I was the daughter of Willy Wonka instead!"

With hatred in my heart, I take my things and rush out the door, not quite sure where I'm going, until I stop at the place where my love began.


	23. Squirrelly Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing this fanfic since junior year of high school, and it's unbelievable how far it's gotten. And it's only gonna go up from there.

** (Charlie's POV): **

I sit beside Grampa Joe's bed in excitement.

"What's it gonna be tonight?" I whisper eagerly, my eyes twinkling with glee.  
"Pirates? A giant peach? Or perhaps...zombie workers?"

He gives a quiet chuckle.

"Now, now. I promised your mother no stories with zombie workers. Not tonight. No, this is one that involves an animal."

"What sort of animal?"

"The artist formally known as the squirrel."

Squirrels?

"What do squirrels have to do with anything?" I ask.

"My boy, the squirrels are the focus of the tale. And their tails."

I nod.

"A long time ago, when Wonka had just built his factory, he added a Nut Room to shell nuts for candy. Now, in that day and age, he realized he had a problem; the workers he had employed after the closing weren't equipped to shell nuts. Many of the nuts ended up broken in halves or even tiny pieces.  
"Wonka realized that he needed something that was naturally adept at breaking nuts open as whole nuts. Then it hit him; why get his workers to do it? Why not nature's own nutcracker? The squirrel.  
"So he managed to find himself a bunch of these furry workers and had them trained. For a long time, it worked. Then suddenly some of the squirrels began to weaken and then, after a few days, they dropped dead. So Wonka decided to run tests on the squirrels."

"What was wrong?"

"They'd contracted a virus. And a deadly one at that. Slowly weakens and paralyses the squirrels. Can't remember the name of it off the top of my head, though.  
"Anyhow, Wonka was at an impasse. His squirrels were dying rapidly and some of the Oompa-Loompas had begun to weaken too, but they didn't die off.

'If I don't find a way around this monster soon, it'll be too late,' he said to himself.  
"'But what on earth am I to do?'  
"After quite sometime, Wonka made a remarkable discovery. Even though the squirrels and Oompa-Loompas got sick, he was fit as a fiddle. He did a few tests on himself; no trace of the virus whatsoever.  
"'It seems that humans are somehow immune.'  
"But based on his previous experience, he knew humans would break the nuts into pieces. He had to figure out some way around it."

"What did he do?"

"Ah, that's just it. No one knows. But one thing's for sure. He knew it was not just because someone's human meant they were immune. It also meant they had to have a sense of childlike wonder. Something the pure squirrels and Oompa-Loompas did not seem to fully have."

"But Wonka still makes nutty candies. He must be," I exclaim.  
"But if he is, how is he?"

Grampa Joe sighs.

"I wish I knew. However he's doing it, it's working tremendously."

"Has the virus gone?"

"Not quite sure, Charlie. Not quite sure. Now go and get some rest. It's getting late. I'm sure the answers will come to you sometime. Maybe even in a dream."

I give him a hug and go off to my room.


	24. Discovery Delectables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matilda vents her anger outside of a familiar location, and someone happens to overhear.

**(Matilda's POV):**

Tears streaming from my eyes, I dare not look back. Instead I look for the puffing, steam stacks of the Wonka Factory. The strong smell of chocolate leads me in the right direction. Tripping on my feet, I slide down on the curb, only to feel a scraping sensation on my knee.

I look down at it to find that it's bleeding. It stings tremendously, but not as much of the sting my mom stored inside of me for what seems like years. I push myself up to the side and cry quietly.

"What am I to do now? I can't possibly go back home. Not after what I've been through."

I start considering possible places for me to stay. Charlie's family? No, that'd be a bit awkward for me for some reason. James's family? No, I can't stand that dodo 24/7. I slowly but surely rule out the potential families I could stay with.

"I could probably just live in the streets. Unless-."

I look at the steam stacks behind me.

"No," I sniff shaking my head and turning back towards the curb.  
"He wouldn't take me in. Though that'd be like a dream."

My senses feel as though the chocolate smell is becoming stronger. I try to shake it off and open my notebook. I take out my pen and begin to write down ideas, saying them as I go.

"Cotton Candy Bears for Broken Hearts and the Betrayed. Cuddle Candy; Eat it and you feel as though you were being cuddled. Commitment Candy Rings; Put it on your special someone and they're bound to you forever-"

I stop myself at that last one and debate on whether to cross it out or not. Tears fall onto the pages.

"Here's an idea," I tell myself.  
"Matilda's Miracle Mints; I eat one and I get a wish."

At this, I go into a sarcastically-cheerful roleplay with myself.

"Here you are, Matilda. A Miracle Mint made to order. Oh, for me? You shouldn't have."

I pop the invisible candy into my mouth.

"Mmmmm. Delicious! So minty fresh. And now you get a wish. A wish? Why, I don't know what to say. You could get revenge or change your life completely or anything you wanted. Anything? Why of course. You invented it, after all."

I begin to ooze anger and vengeance into my voice.

"You know what I wish? I wish I never had to go back to my mother. I really _do _wish I was Willy Wonka's daughter more than anything else in the world!"

At this I hear the sounds of rocks clanging against the ground. It must've been like that special thing I did at the party or something. My anger quickly dissolves into sadness and, in a moment of defeat, I put my head in my hands and cry. Maybe I could be an orphan. But then I'd live on scraps and pity gifts from rich people. I'd grow old and alone. More likely I'd die young and alone from hunger. It seems terrible, but better than my ordeal. In fact anything sounds better than being forced to change who you are, doesn't it?

"Excuse me, child? What are you doing out by yourself?"

In fright I look up to find a man in a plum-colored suit and hat with a cane. The smell of chocolate is penetrating my nostrils more than ever.

"Oh, I was just...thinking," I say anxious.  
"Thinking aloud....I suppose."

"Thinking aloud? How peculiar. I do that quite often myself. May I sit with you for a moment? But not in the street light. Perhaps a bit further back in the dark."

I hesitate for a moment. The man, sensing my fear, gives me a friendly smile.

"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you or anything."

"Well, I guess it'd be alright if you sat with me."

"Excellent."

He plops himself down back by the factory gates. I study the man for a moment, and I swear I recognize him, but I can't quite put my finger on why.

"Come on. Come on," he beckons to me.  
"Don't be shy. I won't bite."

After a moment, I pick up my stuff and sit next to him. We sit in silence for a few moments, but I don't really find the silence awkward. I find it...surprisingly comforting, especially considering it seems that I've never met this man before.

"Hey," I finally gather the courage to say.  
"You know, I think I read somewhere that talking to yourself has been proven to make you smarter. Either that or it means you're smarter than the average person."

"Well, I suppose that's true. Especially because-and pardon me but I couldn't help but overhear-I heard some of your candy ideas. Do you have them written down anywhere by chance?"

I nod.

"May I see them please?" he asks politely.

This sets me into hesitation. I've never shown my notebook to a stranger before. But he doesn't seem like he'd harm me at all.

"Well, I suppose so. But you can't show anyone else. You promise?"

"You have my Candyman Promise."

"Okay then."

I hand the man my notebook and he studies the cover for a while. Finally he opens up the notebook. I only hear him turn a page or two every so often. Once or twice, I look back over to see him studying a particular candy idea, often with an inquisitive and interested "Hmm."

After what seems like hours, he finally hands me the notebook back.

"Quite an impressive collection of ideas you have there, Miss-What did you say your name was?"

I'm about to say that I never told him my name until I remember that he did overhear me.

"Matilda. Matilda Prescott."

He gives a small gasp and then attempts to compose himself, though I'm not sure why.

"Prescott, did you say?"

I nod.

"Ah, yes, of course. Miss Matilda Prescott. Where on earth do you find these ideas?"

I shrug.

"I suppose they just come to me."

"Fascinating. How old are you?"

"Well, I just turned eleven and I've had that notebook for about five or six years."

"Astounding. Quite a bright mind you have, don't you? Some of these even I wouldn't have dreamt up."

Those last few words prompt a question in my head, but before I ask him, he clears his throat.

"Well, I'd best be heading inside. Do you have some place to be?"

I shake my head as the man stands back up.

"I'm having a bit of a fight with my mom. She wants to take me to a mental institution just because I love the science of candy-making."

"Oh dear me! Sounds like more than a bit of a fight. Would you like to come inside with me and stay a while?"

I hesitate. Though he seems nice enough, isn't this a bit too much?

"I don't know. I really shouldn't accept invitations from strangers."

"Well, if you've lived here in this town long enough, I'd doubt you should think of me as a stranger. Come inside. It's not a request now. I'd be just as bad if I let that woman institutionalize such a brilliant mind. Come. There's so much time and so little to do. Wait a moment. Strike that. Reverse it. There we go. Come along, Matilda."

As we walk, I don't really pay attention to where we're heading. When it seems like we're close, I decide to pop my biggest questions as he knocks on a metal door.

"Say, uh, what did you mean by Candyman's Promise? You're a candyman? And what did you mean if I've lived here long enough, I wouldn't think of you as a stranger?"

He turns to me.

"Well, let me give you a little hint."

As the door opens and we head in, the smell of chocolate is intoxicating.

"It's peculiar how we both think aloud. But especially how peculiar that you happened to be thinking right outside of my very own chocolate factory."


	25. Miracle Malts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie's not out of the game yet.

**(Charlie's POV):**

I stand outside the Wonka factory the next morning. The smell of chocolate is overwhelming. It makes me think of what happened the night before. That's when I remember.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the dollar bill that Matilda gave me.

_You're not out of the game yet, golden boy._

Her words echo in my mind.

Suddenly I hear a voice.

"Did you hear? Some guy in Paraguay says he found the last golden ticket," a kid exclaims.

I turn to find two kids from our school; Katherine Albright and Sophie Ballard.

"That's not fair," says Sophie.

"But it's true. It was on the news last night," Katherine defends.

"That can't be. Anyone can claim they found something."

"Well, you never know. Some people just get really lucky, even when they aren't usually the luckiest."

As they walk away, I can't believe my ears. That means the contest is over, doesn't it?

"But it's like Sophie said," I tell myself.  
"Anyone can claim they found something. But still."

With a sigh, I decide to walk around for a while and see where my feet take me.

After a few minutes, I find myself in front of _Bill's Candy Shoppe._ I've never been inside without a friend or two, but I've seen the candyman with his cart out on the street. Today, unfortunately, isn't a cart day, so I head inside.

The shoppe is overwhelming to my senses at first. Colorful wrappers don shelves hanging on the walls. The smell of fudge, nougat, caramel, and so many other delights cooking and simmering in the back room makes me feel excited. The smells intensify as I move closer to the counter.

Bill's not at the counter. The smells of various candies tell me he's in the back room. I know he's always dreamed of making his own candy, even if he's not the best at it.

"Oh my!"

A bang and a pop followed by a few dozen coughs lead me to run into the back. I find the ginger-haired candyman in his pink and white striped shirt, his khaki pants and white apron. The floor and Bill are covered in various syrups, saps, and substances.

"Are you okay, Bill?" I ask concerned.

He looks up and me and smiles.

"Charlie, hello. Yes, I'm fine," he says in a kind, gentle voice.

I hold out a hand and help him on his feet.

"Thanks. I was trying to make some caramel nougat," he says as he brushes himself off.  
"Anyway, what a surprise to see you here alone. Normally you're with Matilda and James."

"Long story," I tell him as we walk back out into the main store.  
"Anyway, I'd like to buy some candy; a chocolate bar, if that's okay."

Bill's face looks at me in pleasant surprise as I walk out in front of the counter.

"Well, alright then. What'll it be, Charlie? A Ficklegroober Peppermint Bar? A Slugworth Sizzler?"

"Whichever's the biggest," I say.

"A Wonka bar it is."

I place the money on the counter.

"Now that all the tickets are found," he says picking a Wonka bar from the front.  
"I don't have to hide the bars anymore."

As he hands me the bar and takes the money, I rip open the wrapper and devour the bar.

"Whoa. Take it easy, Charlie. Don't wanna get a stomach ache, do you?"

"Sorry," I say sheepishly as he hands me the change."It's just so delicious. Is this a new one?"

Bill nods.

"The Wonka Around-the-World Bar. A mix of-"

"-Cocoa beans from South America, some cinnamon from North America, a hint of barbecue from Australia, a hint of salt from Africa, some sweet marshmallow root from Asia, a bit of powdered sugar from Europe, and a pinch of peppermint to represent the frostiness of Antarctica and the North Pole."

I look at Bill; his eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates I've seen when I have a snack at Matilda or James's house.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine. I'm just shocked you could taste all of that."

"I guess I have a pretty good sense of detail."

I let the chocolate spin in my tongue before I finish the bar.

"Well, I should probably be going now."

"Have a nice day."

I begin to walk to the exit when I realize; this is an opportunity I may never get to experience again. I have money that I can do with what I chose. And I chose to get another bar for my family.

"Hey, Bill," I say walking back to the counter.  
"I think I'll have just one more. To share with my family."

"Alright then," Bill says with a smile.

Suddenly his eyes widen and he gasps.

"Say, I just remembered. Wonka bars are on sale today. Only 25 cents a bar. And you've got a whole dollar."

"Three more bars?" I ask.

The thought is tempting for me.

"You really don't have to let me."

"Come on now. You deserve it."

"I've already had one bar."

Then the thought crosses my mind.

"But I think I'll have three more. One for my family, one for James, and maybe one for Matilda if there's anything she can have. For my family, Grandpa Joe likes the Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight bars. On the other hand, Grandma Josephine adores the Nut-a-rific bars."

"Then you should try the Wonka Totally Twisted Combo Bar. Just came out. As for James, I know he loves the Wonka Cocoa Peachy Keen. But what about Matilda? She's never had a Wonka bar."

"She's allergic to Gluten and Dairy."

"Then I have just the thing."

Bill turns around to the counter and pulls out a bar.

"The new Wonka Allergen-Friendly Bar; Gluten Free and Dairy Free. Came out just yesterday."

I hand him the rest of the money and he hands me the bars.

"Thanks," I say with a smile.  
"Have a good day."

As soon as I step out of the shop, the commotion hits my ears. It's coming from the newspaper stand.

"Extra! Extra! _Golden Ticket Finder Five Found a Fraud_," a newspaper boy calls.

Sounds of excitement and disbelief ripple through the crowd.

"I knew it was a fake!" I hear one woman call.

"I can't believe someone would stoop so low," a man exclaims.

"That means there's still a ticket out there somewhere!" another calls.

I can't believe my ears. Perhaps I still have a chance. Perhaps in one of my bars...

I decide to open one now and see if the ticket may be inside. I close my eyes as my hand hovers over the bars. Suddenly I place the hand on one of the bars. Opening my eyes, I find that my hand has chosen Matilda's bar.

"Well, she did give me the dollar," I tell myself.

After a moment, I decide to go ahead and open it. Placing the other two in my coat pocket, I turn the bar over and pull off the label.

"This is for you, Matilda," I whisper.

Slowly I pull away the aluminum wrapper, savoring the anticipation. I peel it ever so slowly from the top down. Halfway through I see a glint. At first I think it's the sun playing tricks on me until I realize that the sun isn't out.

Could it just be my mind playing a trick on me? There's only one way to know for sure. I pull it away the slowest I've ever done.

Suddenly I see the shine again. Is it what I think it is? I pull it away and underneath lies a piece of shiny, golden paper wrapped around the bar.

"You're a wonder, Matilda," I whisper as I stare at the prize.


	26. Hot Chocolate Chews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me or does Wonka seem.....out of sorts?

** (Matilda's POV): **

Darkness and silence.

Those are all I see and hear at first. I feel as though I'm floating.

"Matilda?" a voice calls from afar.  
"Matilda, are you there?"

My eyes slowly flicker open and I find myself surrounded by several...

Well, what are they? From my glasses, which miraculously are still on my face, they don't look like normal people. I find that they wear purple shirts and white worker overalls. Their hair-some spiked, some left straight down, some in two buns on their heads-is colored blue along with their lips. And yet, they look fairly human.

"Is she alright?" one of them asks.

"I think so. Look! She's opening her eyes," exclaims another.

"That's probably just your imagination, Daisy Bloom. No wait. You're right!"

I feel incredibly dizzy. As I try to sit up, the people things push me back down. A figure stands over me that I don't recognize right away.

"Thank goodness you're alright," the figure sighs in relief.

My vision is coming back again and I gasp when I see the figure.

"You took quite a fall there."

It's slowly coming back to me. That man is none other than Mr. Willy Wonka! And I had shown him my notebook. I had shown Mr. Willy Wonka my notebook of candy ideas. And he thought it was fantastic. Fantastic!

"Where am I, Mr. Wonka?" I ask as I try to sit back up.

"Uh-uh-uh!" he scolds me gently as if I'm a toddler.  
"I don't want you to be sick, my dear."

"But I really should be getting back home."

"Are you so sure? What with your mother and all?"

I give a sigh. Of course he's right. If I go back now, my mom might still put me in an institution and burn my notebook. Wait. My notebook!

I begin to panic as I realize that it's no longer on my person.

"Mr. Wonka, where is my notebook?" I ask in a fluster.

"Not to worry," he smiles.  
"I have it in a safe place."

"But where-?"

"Shh!"

He waves his hand over my mouth. As I try to protest some more, I discover that no noise comes out no matter what.

"Trust me," he says calmly and gently waving a finger back and forth in front of my eyes.  
"It's in a safe place. Trust me."

I feel calm and relaxed, yet at the same time a bit concerned. What is he even doing?

"Trust me," he repeats.  
"You do trust me, don't you?"

He moves his finger up and down and I nod along with it. His voice is calming yet scary at the same time.

"Good."

He snaps his fingers and I jolt.

"Now you're going to stay then?" he asks hopefully.

I contemplate this. On one hand, I shouldn't be in here. But on the other hand, going into the factory of my biggest idol is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It may never happen again!

"Sure. But only for a while," I tell him.

"Splendid!"

He has the tone of an excited child when he says this.

"Now would you like something to drink? Hot chocolate perhaps?"

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I'm allergic to dairy."

"Not to worry. I have a special mixture. My new non-dairy hot chocolate."

He snaps his fingers and one of the people things with spiky hair rushes out of the room.

"Who are they?" I ask gesturing to the little people.

"They are Oompa-Loompas," he explains.  
"They're my workers."

Huh. That explains how the factory's still working.

"I take it they aren't from the great city?" I ask.

"They are, in fact, from Loompa Land."

"Loompa Land?"

"Exactly."

I give this some thought. It sounds made up yet not.

"Huh. Mr. Turkentine didn't teach us that in Geography."

"That's because most teachers are sworn into secrecy."

"Why?" I ask now intrigued.

"Because," he says in a low voice."You never know if any of the children are Wangdoodles or Hornswagglers or Snozzwanglers or rotten Vermicious Knids in disguise. You see, they kidnap children and turn them into their workers and spies. If they were to know of the locations of my dear, little Oompa-Loompas, then I would be ruined and they would be doomed."

A bright idea comes into my head.

"Is that why no one ever goes in or comes out of here?"

"Goodness! You're more brilliant than I thought," he says in awe.

My heart jumps in my stomach.

_He thinks I'm brilliant._

"Thank you," I say calmly even though deep down I'm screaming in joy.

The door opens and the Oompa-Loompa returns with a tray, a cup, several marshmallows, and a bottle of brown liquid. As soon as Mr. Wonka spots the tray, he gasps.

"No, no, no!" he exclaims.  
"Not that bottle, Sunshine."

"But I thought you wanted-" he says.

I recognize it as one of the voices I heard when I was waking up. I try to stifle a giggle at the thought of a boy being named Sunshine.

"Not for her," Wonka interjects.  
"She deserves better. Get the other one."

Sunshine sets the tray down and takes the bottle away.

"What was that about?" I ask out of curiosity.

Mr. Wonka turns back to me.

"Oh, it's nothing, Matilda."

"But-"

Here he proceeds to wave his finger back and forth again.

"It's nothing, my dear."

This time the process is shorter and I nod in agreement. He snaps his fingers again and I jump once more.

"Okay?" I reply in uncertainty.

"Good. Now I have some things to attend to. You get some rest. Sunshine will be back with the hot chocolate. Do not leave your room. You need your rest."

He turns around and heads out of the room. And with that, he leaves me to wonder, as I slip into a nap, why on earth is he acting this way?


	27. Ticket Taffies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family learns of Charlie's victory.

**(Charlie's POV):**

I rush through the crowd of people, dodging attempts to buy my ticket from me. I sprint through tunnels, over bridges, through the cold, autumn air, back to my house. Wait until my family hears about this. This could change our lives forever!

"Hey, everyone!" I shout as I burst through the door waving the golden miracle.  
"Look! I found it! I found the last Golden Ticket. It's mine!"

Everyone looks at me astonished.

"You're pulling our legs, Charlie," Grandpa Joe sighs.  
"There are no more Golden Tickets."

"No, Grandpa," I exclaim quickly.  
"That one was a fake. It says so in the paper. Matilda found some money and gave it to me last night and then this morning I went to the candy shoppe and bought a few Wonka bars and I found it! Look. See for yourself, Grandpa!"

I thrust the Golden Ticket into his line of vision.

"Read it, Joe, for heaven's sake!" Grandma Josephine tells him.

He has to study it a bit to find the right amount of vision, but he eventually finds a spot he can read it.

_Greetings to you, the lucky finder of this golden ticket, from Mr. Willy Wonka. I shake you warmly by the hand and invite you to tour my factory, showing you everything there is to see. Afterwards, when it is time to leave, you will be escorted to a lot where, waiting for you will be several large trucks. These trucks contain a lifetime supply of chocolate for you and whoever you decide to share it with. It is also worth noting that one of you five lucky children will receive an extra prize beyond anything you could ever imagine. Now here are your instructions:_

_Please report to the gates on the first of October at 10 am sharp. Don't be late. You are allowed to bring one family member and only one family member to look after you. In your wildest dreams, you cannot imagine the marvelous surprises that await you!_

_Until then,_

_Willy Wonka_

The whole family bursts into whoops, hollers, and laughter.

"Charlie, you did it! I knew you would," Grandpa Joe exclaims.

"We're so proud of you," Grandma Josephine tells me as she kisses me on the forehead.

"Wait a minute," I gasp.  
"It says I can bring a family member."

I glance at Grandpa Joe, remembering that he used to work for Mr. Wonka, as did Grandma Josephine. It was actually how they met.

"I wish you could come, Grandpa Joe,"

"I know you do, Charlie," my mother says.  
"But he's quite too old."

"Oh, no I'm not!" Grandpa George rasps.

"Not you," Grandma Georgina exclaims.  
"Joe!"

"Know what? I don't know what?"

"JOE!" Grandma Georgina and Grandma Josephine shout.

"Oh. Him? He's too old!"

"Now wait just a candy-makin' minute!" Grandpa Joe exclaims.  
"Who are you calling old? I'm as fit as a fiddle! Charlie, help me outta here."

I pull off the blankets and help Grandpa Joe move his legs so they can touch the ground. Then I help him sit straight up and try to get him to stand. This proves to be slightly difficult, and perhaps a bit dangerous as well, but I eventually succeed to the point where he need only hold one of my hands and then a bit further.

"There! You're doing it," I encourage him as we walk around the tiny shack.

Eventually he manages to make it on his own.

"I guess pop's going with Charlie," dad shrugs.

The whole family cheers on Grandpa Joe until my mother calms everyone.

"Wait! It says it's on the first of October."

"So?" Grandpa Joe asks.

"That's tomorrow!"


	28. Surveillance Sugars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonka makes a miraculous discovery.

**(Wonka's POV):**

I leave the little wonder to the room I provided her. I snap my fingers twice and two of my Oompa Loompas begin to follow me. My shoes click against the floor as I navigate to a room not marked on any of the maps of my factory. Daisy Bloom and Dizzy Flower follow at my side.

"Are you sure she won't wake up too early, sir?" Dizzy Flower asks me.

"Quite certain," I reply as I type in a code on a keypad by a door.  
"The hot chocolate recipe takes quite a while to prepare and the bed's adjusted to her comfort level. She'll fall asleep like a small child."

"How did you even get her to trust you so well, sir?"

"Ah, now that is one of my greatest secrets," I gasp as we step onto a lift and descend below the factory.

The behemoth that is the lower level of my factory appears as I observe more of my lovely Oompa Loompas working on more rooms and candies. We stop on a floor where they are at work on multiple projects.

"Excuse me? Tangerine Sparkle? I need to see you!" I call.

Another Oompa Loompa, one with a small face and wide eyes, steps inside the lift with a clipboard.

"Tangerine Sparkle, human resources and project manager, at your service, sir," he greets me eagerly.  


"Please come with us. We have some business to attend to."

"Yes sir!"

He turns around.

"Fire Sweet, you're in charge while I'm gone," he calls to a taller Oompa Loompa.

"Roger that!" she yells back as the lift door closes.

"I'd like you to give me a status report and an updated to-do list," I tell him as we descend deeper.

"Indeed, sir. For starters, I've sent Glitter Sun and Golden Desert to work out the bugs in the Nut Room laboratory. Blazing Dusk is at work in the Inventing Room trying to figure out how to get your three-course gum to work without turning the Oompa Loompas into blueberries. Orange Flash is in the TV room polishing the camera lens. Shall I go on, sir?"

I shake my head, knowing if he does, he won't stop.

"Just send me a report later. Now tell me the to-do list."

"Well, sir, the most important thing we need to do right now is to find The Sweet One."

"That task has been on there for months," Daisy Bloom laments.  
"We may never find them."

"Now, now, my dear Daisy Bloom, do not despair," I assure her as I pat her head.  
"I may have found The Sweet One."

The lift stops at a floor close to the center of the earth and we exit from it.

"I just need to run tests to be sure," I explain as I enter in another code.

As the door opens, I pull out a remote and point it at one of the many monitors on the wall of this room until I find the room.

"There she is," I reply eagerly and lovingly.

There's a moment of silence.

"Her? Sir, no offense to you and your genius," Dizzy Flower pipes up.  
"But she looks so...ordinary. Are you sure SHE is who we need?"

"Quite positive," I answer.  
"Daisy Bloom, lower the helmet and begin the scan."

"Yes, sir."

She heads over to a control panel and presses a large purple button. A helmet lowers from the ceiling and seamlessly attaches itself to the head. A beep and a green light confirm the beginning of the scan.

"Tangerine Sparkle, match the wavelength to her CCIIQ."

"On it, sir."

He goes over to a monitor with a dial and begins to adjust it.

"Dizzy Flower, you keep track of her CCIIQ levels and see if she meets the average."

"Of course, sir."

She goes over to a computer and begins to watch. I view the sleeping wonder as the helmet works its magic. I begin to doubt my certainty until I remember what she showed me. Surely, she'll at least be close to the average-

"Uh, sir," Dizzy Flower calls hesitantly.  
"We may have a malfunction in the programme."

Confused I hurry to her side and view the monitor. My eyes begin to grow.

"Hmm, must be," I say trying to hide my awe.  
"Tangerine, are you matching the wavelength properly?"

"I'm certain of it, sir."

"Run an ultra scan and have it printed."

He brings it back to me as I have the helmet sent back up to the ceiling. We all find the results to be-

"Astonishing!" Dizzy Flower exclaims.

"Wonderful!" Daisy Bloom gasps.

"Impossible!" Tangerine snaps in shock.

"I must say, I am quite surprised," I gasp.  
"Not one child I have had scanned has had these results before!"

"And look at these ideas, sir," Dizzy Flower adds.  
"They're the likes of which we've never seen."

"So, is she the one we're looking for, sir?" Daisy Bloom asks hopefully.

"It would appear so, but we'll need to see how easily she can escape simulation. Then we'll know for sure."

"But is there still time to retrieve her, sir?"

"Of course. The effects of the bed shouldn't wear off for about an hour. Until then she'll be out like a-"

"Sir, code vanilla! Code Vanilla!" Dizzy Flower exclaims.

We look over to see that Sunshine had brought the hot chocolate in and the girl has left her room.

"Blast it all! I thought I told her not to!" I growl but I soon give a grin.  
"She'll be a stubborn one to raise, but all the better. Dizzy Flower, you retrieve her by any means necessary. Daisy Bloom, you prepare the simulation chair and chamber. Tangerine Sparkle, alert the others of our situation and have about a dozen or two Oompa Loompas report to the simulation chamber."

As the three leave, I program the cameras to track the girl and watch her as I make the factory mix itself up.

"Oh, my dear," I purr.  
"You really should've listened to me. But soon you will obey me. Soon you will."

I reach out to one of the monitors and stroke it with my finger.

"Soon you will, my wonderous Matilda."


	29. Nutty Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matilda discovers the horrific truth about her friends.

**(Matilda's POV):**

After I wake up and Sunshine comes back with the hot chocolate, I leave it to cool. I feel well enough to sit up in bed and then to go exploring. Besides I might be able to find out why I was feeling so nauseated at the gates before. Speaking of, why on earth didn't it happen the last time?

Quietly I creep out of my room and find myself greeted by a long, colorful hallway; the walls covered with doors.

"Okay," I tell myself.  
"Shouldn't be too difficult considering I don't have any particular location in mind. Just gotta be careful so that Wonka doesn't see me out of bed."

But the more I wander about, the more lost I become. It seems that the factory keeps shuffling itself. My head begins to spin and I find myself needing to lean against the walls for support.

Soon I come to a door labeled "Nut Room Laboratory." From within I hear tiny squeaks. Some eager and some-frightened?

"Why would anyone be frightened in here?" I ask myself with a nervous laugh.  
"It's Wonka's Factory."

The door opens and I flatten myself against the wall as two Oompa-Loompas walk out talking about some nonsense. Quietly I slip inside and shut the door.

The room has the look of a doctor's office, yet the feel of an insane asylum. A shiver rolls through me and my stomach churns as if I'm back at the gate. Something doesn't feel right.

As I walk around, my eye falls on a clipboard hovering over the edge of the desk it's on. I grab it and it pops up. My eyes take it all in.

"What on earth?"

In front of me is a holographic list of names. I scroll through when I spy one I recognize; Billie Smith. I select her and before me is a whole profile on her; from her blood type to her age down to the millisecond.

A thought strikes my mind. Making a mental checklist, I go through the rest of the names of my friends. They're all there; all filled out save for mine and Charlie's.

"It doesn't make sense," I exclaim.  
"Why would-?"

All of a sudden, Sophie's profile comes up along with statistics and a warning reading, "Transformation malfunction."

"Transformation malfunction? What does that mean?"

"What do you think?" a familiar, but higher-pitched, voice asks.

"Billie?" I turn my head, but see nothing.

"I'm down here."

I look by my feet. In front of me is a small, adorable, brown squirrel with blonde curls on the top of its head.

"Billie? No. That's insane. She's not a squirrel. Where are you, Billie?"

"I'm right here," the squirrel says.

I gasp as fear runs through me.

"But-but how did you get like this?"

"Help!" I hear a muffled voice yell.  
"Somebody help us!"

"Go over there," the squirrel sighs, pointing to a periwinkle door with a narrow trapezoid window.  
"And you'll get your answer."

I go to the yelling and peek inside the window of the door. The feeling in my stomach heightens as I witness the sight. Two kids trapped in cylindric capsules like on a spaceship. One has two IVs stuck in his arm and has begun to turn furry brown and grow a tail. Another is trying to remove the second IV as the first hangs down by her side, dripping a strange brown liquid. She too has grown a tail and shrunken slightly.

The sight alone makes me feel sick. But what makes it worse is that I recognize both of those kids.

"Sophie? James?" I squeak.

Before I can make a move, there's a thud and a bang on the back of my head. I hit the floor.

"Sorry we have to do this to you," a voice says as I begin to black out.  
"But you know too much about this, Matilda.


	30. Icing Illusionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matilda is back at the Bucket shack, and everything is fine!
> 
> Or is it.......?
> 
> (CW: mentions of psychoactive drugs, needles)

**(Matilda's POV):**

Light shines at my eyes and my head begins to spin.

"Matilda, wake up," a familiar, sing-song voice says.

I open my eyes to find myself surrounded by two old women and a boy. They look familiar.

"Gramma Josephine? Gramma Georgina? Charlie?"

I sit up to find myself in the Bucket shack. Slowly the dizziness begins to fade.

"I-it was all a dream," I say relieved.

"That's right. Now you're here," Gramma Josephine says kindly in the same singsong voice.

I feel a rush of relief flow through me. To think that it was nothing more than a mere nightmare. I wasn't really knocked out. I never saw that lab room. Billie wasn't a squirrel; Sophie and James weren't being transformed into squirrels. The relief turns to joy and then to dread as I realize the truth.

"But now my mother's going to have me institutionalized," I squeak sadly.

Tears flow down my face as I drop my head. I feel a sense of hopelessness until I feel a hand gently touch my chin. Slowly I bring my face back up. My eyes meet Charlie's gentle, brown ones.

"It doesn't have to be like that," he whispers kindly.

"But-but how-?"

He puts a finger to my mouth. Reaching behind him, he pulls out a small leather-covered box.

"We've been friends for a long time and you've done so much to help me. Now-"

He opens the box. Inside is a shiny golden ring with the phrase "To My Forever Wonderspark" engraved in silver.

"-it's my turn to repay the favor."

He gives a deep sigh before speaking.

"Matilda, will you marry me?"

I'm taken in shock.

"What?" I ask in disbelief.  
  
"You're smart, funny, beautiful. I've never met anyone like you. I want you by my side forever. Please?"

I'm about to say "yes, gladly!" until I see the fallacies in this.I point out that first off, we're only eleven, which is not at the age of consent, and at that age, marriage isn't even legal in this country unless a parent or guardian gives their permission and there's absolutely no way my mother would say yes to that.

"And second of all," I finish.  
"Asking me to marry you could only happen in a dream of mine. Or even an induced dream...state."

I trail off in my thoughts. All of a sudden, I hear a small, quick buzz of electricity.

"What was that?" I wonder aloud.

"Just, uh, the-" Gramma Georgina begins to say.

Another buzz and a spark. This one I actually see coming from Charlie.

"-the TV," she finishes quickly.

This I'm not buying even a tiny bit, so I go to pondering the possibilities.

"This could be some sort of.....a hallucination? Maybe an altered or alternate reality or possibly a dream state. Is that even feasible?Well, I suppose through psychoactive drugs, I could be experiencing a visual and auditory hallucination, though those would have to be very strong psychoactives. So perhaps through some sort of...alteration or distortion of the brainwaves via neurological technology or drugs, a dream state could be induced or an alternate reality could be projected into a person's subconscious and making them believe that this is real, which would mean this is absolutely, positively, 100% false. Long explanation short, none of this is real and I am currently trapped in some sort of lotus eater device, a machine that projects my deepest desires right in front of me in complete 360 degree view both left and right as well as up and down. But who would do that and why-?"

"So when are we going to have the wedding?" Gramma Josephine blurts out loudly.

"Quiet. I need to think."

"About candy ideas?" Georgina interjects.

"What? No. Of course not. Why would I even want to right now?"

"For the master, of c-c-course."

Gramma Georgina begins to glitch and everything begins to fade away.

* * *

Light shines in my face as I open my eyes. They seem to be covered by some sort of goggles; they remind me of the device used to check for eye prescriptions. I pull the goggles off of my head to find myself in a room hooked up to various machinery; it seems like a laboratory of some sort or an operating room. About a dozen Oompa-Loompas in white coats surround me and gasp as they see I've regained consciousness.

"Where in the name of sanity am I?" I ask in absolute disbelief.

I feel a pain in my left arm. I look to find that I'm hooked up to an IV, and I shiver at the mere sight. I _**hate **_needles so much.

"The master's not going to like this," I hear a voice gasp in my head.

I look up to see several Oompa-Loompas; one of them is speaking into a microphone.

"Oh really Daisy Wimp?" another scoffs.  
"I had no idea."

The first one waves to me nervously.

"Oh hi, Matilda," she smiles anxiously.  
"Sorry we had to do that."

"You're supposed to call her 'The Sweet One,'" another growls hitting her.  
"Gosh, you can't even get her name right, idiot!"

"Who-?" I begin to ask.

Suddenly the door slams open.

"What's going on?" a voice booms in fury.

The Oompa-Loompas rush to two lines; they tremble slightly as a tall figure in a plum-colored coat slinks up to me.


	31. Raspberry Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matilda learns a shocking truth.

**(Matilda's POV):**

I breathe in and out as I attempt to keep my heart rate down. The man I idolize; has he done this to me? And why?

"Well, we thought that would work on you. I suppose we seriously underestimated you. Wonderful job, my dear. Wonderful. And in a record time too."

I try to move, but I find that my body is restrained by straps.

"What on earth is going on here?"

"I thought I told you not to leave your room!" he growls.

"Were you going to let me leave?"

"Touché."

He paces back and forth. I wonder what the gears in his brain are concocting or operating, but I have a feeling it's not good.

"Virtual reality simulation initiated by chemical injection. How clever."

"Not clever enough so it would seem."

I push against the straps, but they only tighten more.

"Struggle all you wish," Wonka chuckles.  
"It'll only make it tighter."

"You don't say," I groan sarcastically against its grasp.

"Oh, I do."

I sigh heavily and roll my eyes.

"Okay, you purple plum face! What do you want with me?"

"Uh-uh-uh!" he scolds.  
"You shouldn't be talking to your new father like that."

It takes me several moments to make sure I heard that right. New father? I shake my head.

"That's crazy talk! You're not my father. Mine's-"

"Not your father any longer. In fact, was he ever?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tsk. Tsk. I thought you were clever, my dear. Your father was never your father."

"You're insane!" I tell him.  
"Of course he's my father. He always has been."

"Oh really?"

He clasps his hands together.

"Tell me, Matilda. In the past five years, did he ever try to contact you? Did he ever send a letter asking about you? Did he ever send one telling you that he loved you?"

There's a moment of silence as we stare at each other. One in patience and the other in confusion.

"Because I love you, my sweet flower."

I begin to feel something strange inside of me and it shows on my face. He chuckles evilly.

"How charming. No one has said those words to you for a long time, have they?"

My eyes dart left and right.

"What does that matter to you?" I ask.  
"In fact why are you even trying to make me your daughter in the first place? And what about Sophie and James and the rest of them?"

He begins to walk about slowly, his footsteps clicking once per second.

"For the longest time, I've created a variety of wondrous sweets never before seen by man. But now I am getting old and my ideas have begun to diminish. Nowadays I sometimes forget them before I can enact them and the ideas I don't forget right away are often the worst.  
"I began to do some research as to why this could be happening to me. I worked day and night to find an answer. Just before I was about to give up, a theory came to me; children are the greatest source of imagination and creativity there is."

"So you lured children inside to test how imaginative they were?"

"Very clever."

"And those who didn't pass, what happened to them?"

"Ah. You see around that time, my squirrel population had begun to die of a disease that I could not cure them of. I did not know precisely what it was, but I do know that human-squirrel hybrids seem to be immune."

"Then why don't you turn me into a human-squirrel hybrid?"

Hearing this Wonka laughs and I raise an eyebrow.

"Oh. How adorable! Do you actually think I'm going to let you go to waste working day in and day out shelling nuts? Goodness no!"

He goes over to a panel. Pressing buttons and flipping switches, it makes a monitor come down from the ceiling. All I can see is snow until he adjusts a dial. In front of me are two line graphs. Wonka strides back over and points to the first graph.

"This line graph shows the average Creativity, Curiosity, and Imagination Intelligence Quotient in normal children, or Double C, Double I, Q, as I like to call it. What do you notice about it?"

I examine the line and I quickly notice what he means.

"There's a huge decline. It's around the time when television was introduced."

"Exactly. Matilda, do you watch TV much?"

I give it some thought and I realize how little I do. I shake my head.

"No, not much. Not unless I absolutely have to or if it's enlightening like documentaries or something new and creative."

"How much time do you spend reading?"

"A bit when I'm not out with my friends or doing homework or working on new candy ideas. What does that have to do with anything?"

Wonka points to the second line graph. It shows a significant increase over a very short period of time and then a stabilization with some slight increases. I notice that often times, the line goes off the chart.

"What's that?" I ask.

"That, my dear," he answers.  
"Is your CCIIQ level. You exceed the average of at least 99% of the world child population and 99% of the world adult population. Something in your brain is wired to not only use the trifecta of creative genius, but it makes your mind the epitome of said trifecta. A mind like that shall not go to waste on such menial labors like nut shelling."

He takes a finger and gently places it on the back of my head. Slowly he moves it forward towards the forehead and I begin to shiver. He sighs in platonic satisfaction.

"A mind is a terrible thing to waste, especially on such an ordinary and dull world. That is why you are going to remain here as my daughter. For the world in here is far from ordinary. It's even far from extraordinary. Out there is not fit for a mind such as yours."

"What's the big deal?"

"Do you want to go to the asylum? They'll think you're crazy. They'll use whatever they can to make you complacent and 'normal'; lobotomy, electroshock, hypnosis, medications. They'll turn your brain into boring mush, you'll become a zombie worker, and then where would you be? Working 9 to 5 in an office job for the rest of your life. I am not about to let that happen. Because you are not crazy. No, Matilda, my dear. You are wonderfully extraordinary and absolutely brilliant.  
"Just imagine all the things you can create with your mind. The endless ideas you can provide. The only way you can increase and harness it is to remain here with me."

"You're a madman if you think I'm going to stay with you!" I scoff.

"You really don't think you actually have a choice, do you?" he chuckles.  
"It's either this or you'd go to the insane asylum. Honestly it would pain me if you took the latter, but there'd be no other option. I won't let you live out on the streets, nor will I send you to another family, and I will certainly NOT let you chose to bring upon yourself a fate that is currently inevitable to most of us all in due time. Besides, you wished it yourself to be my daughter, did you not?"

The memory of me outside the factory the night before returns to me. Was it a real desire or was it in the heat of the moment that I said such a thing?

"You do want to, don't you, Matilda?" he purrs softly as he waves his finger in front of me.

I begin to fall into a relaxed state. It just feels so peaceful and it makes me feel safe.

But I'm not really safe, am I? No, of course not! I've just discovered that my idol is a psychotic man who wants to make me his daughter. I shake my head violently.

"Enough of that! Your hypnosis tactics won't work on me," I exclaim determined and infuriated.  
"Now, let me ask you something; since you need someone to be the heir to your factory, then why did you send out the golden tickets? Why not just pick from one of the five who won?"

He begins to pace around the room slowly. His shoes click methodically against the floor as if he's trying to use a different tactic to put me into a trance.

"That was my original plan. Until I met you."

"How would you have even determine it?" I ask.

He takes a deep breath and prepares to say something when the door opens. An anxious Oompa Loompa runs in.

"Sir! The ticket winners are here," he pants.

Wonka looks at his wrist, but there is no watch.

"Goodness, is it tour o clock already?" he exclaims.  
"I must attend to the lucky five."

His shoes click-click-click towards the doorway.

"Wait! What about me?" I gasp.

His head whips around and our eyes meet.

"What about you, my dear?"

"Aren't you gonna let me go?"

At this he gives a chuckle.

"Oh, how adorable!" he says as his shoes click-click-click back towards me.  
"Do you honestly think I can trust you to stay put? Heavens, no. Not without some constraints. Physical and mental."

I glare at him in confusion.

"What do you mean mental?"

Soon he stops in front of me and crouches down until we're eye-to-eye. He holds up a finger and slowly moves it from side-to-side.

"And besides," he says, his voice getting softer.  
"You're probably very tired from the stress of the simulation."

I start to protest, but suddenly I do feel very tired. I attempt to suppress a yawn, but the feeling is too strong. Mr. Wonka, seeing my fatigue, narrows his eyes and I swear they're beginning to spiral.

I try to look away, but something compels me to keep looking.

"Very tired, isn't that right, my dear?"

I attempt to distract myself with anything I can think of; arithmetic problems, candy ideas, even the fight my mom and I had, but my work is fruitless. My mind begins to fog up, and I find it spiraling into sleep.

"Very….tired…" I find myself droning.  
"Very, very…"

I don't even get a chance to finish. The last thing I hear before I drop into a slumber is the snap of his fingers.


	32. Bubbly Broadcast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This fic doesn't end at 31 chapters.

**(Live Broadcast/Charlie's POV)**

"Fiona Trout, reporting live from the Great City," Fiona reports as I stand beside her.

"Outside the gates of the Wonka factory, where thousands of people from across the globe have come to see the candy legend himself, the Howard Hughes of candy; Mr. Willy Wonka. Now only 5 of these thousands are going to be allowed inside. We received report yesterday that the fifth Golden Ticket from Paraguay was, in fact, a fraudulent ticket. The person in question will be sent to court and charged for counterfeiting, though we have no word from Wonka himself on whether a lawsuit should follow.  
"But just last night, the true fifth and final Golden Ticket was found by a ten year old boy from our very own Great City, yes, the very city that I am standing in; his name is Charlie Bucket and we have him with us right now. Charlie, how are you this morning?"

"Thank you, Fiona. I'm quite excited," I smile.  
"My family hasn't exactly had much luck and I'm hoping maybe today will change that."

"I certainly hope so as well! And tell me, who is the man in the suit standing next to you?"

"Oh, this is my grandpa. Grandpa Joe."

"Pleasure to meet you," he says enthusiastically as he shakes her hand.

Fiona seems a bit shaken by how enthusiastic my grandpa's handshake is.

"Well," she gasps surprised.  
"Same to you, sir. How are you feeling on this cold October morning?"

"I'm very excited to be here this morning. I actually used to work for Wonka as did my wife, Josephine."

"Oh? How exactly did you two meet?"

"Oh, glad to tell you! I remember it like it was yesterday. Well," he begins.  
"I was working in one of the smaller outlets just before the factory closed some years back. I was in charge of the taffy puller that day. I turned my back to get some more flavoring for the strawberry taffy and the next thing I knew, I heard a scream. I turned back around and this beautiful brunette was stuck in the strawberry taffy. Must've gotten caught on her uniform.  
"It took me sometime to get her out. The taffy back then was incredibly sticky. You could almost use it as superglue. That's actually what it was called; Superglue Taffy Stix. Anyway, to make a long story short, it took a lot of water, nail polish remover, and a chicken to get her uniform out of there. Now I call her my little strawberry."

"Aww," chorus the others around us.

"Very touching, Mr. Bucket. Now Charlie, is there anyone out there you'd like to thank?" she asks me.

I nod as I shiver in the cold.

"My friend James Adams and my other friend Matilda Prescott. She's actually the one who gave me most of the bars. If I win that extra prize, I'm hoping I can share it with her and James as a way to say thanks for helping me out. She really wanted to go, but insisted I take the ticket."

Fiona nods.

"Fantastic, and rather touching. Now we've actually heard of Matilda Prescott before from another one of the ticket winners, eleven year old Veruca Salt. Is it true that Matilda has a notebook of candy ideas?"

My mind freezes up. I promised Matilda I wouldn't tell anyone, but this could be her chance to get some recognition. But on the other hand, if you make a promise with a fellow Wonkarer, you must keep it.

"I'm sorry, Fiona," I apologize politely.  
"But I cannot comment on that at this time."

She nods respectfully.

"Well, thank you for your time, Charlie Bucket."

"You're welcome, ma'am."

"Well, it's ten o clock on the dot and people are anxiously crowding around the gates to get a glimpse of Mr. Willy Wonka. There seems to be no sign of him—wait a second, the door's opening now. Could it be?"

Everyone, including me and Grandpa Joe, leans forward in anticipation. Out comes a man in a plum-purple coat and top hat.

"Yes, it's him!" Fiona exclaims.  
"The great Mr. Willy Wonka!"


	33. Flying Fizzies

**(Matilda's POV)**

I struggle against the hypnosis as I stay stuck in partial trance. He's pretty powerful, but then again, I am as well, just in different respects.

"Gotta….break….free…." I groan.

I try to think of things to keep me alert, but his spell is stubborn. I begin to feel beads of sweat form on my forehead and fall on my eyes, stinging. I try to blink rapidly, but it feels like my eyelids are made of heavy steel.

But soon with a groan of persistence, and breaking several dozen sweats, I break free. I try to pull the IV out of my arm, trying to block out the pain as I struggle against the straps. I can't get to it, so it looks like I'll have to utilize some resources nearby.

"Hey!" I yell to one of the Oompa-Loompas, the timid one from earlier.  
"You!"

"You're supposed to be in trance, Sweet One," she squeaks.

"I can't," I whimper.  
"The straps are too tight. Can you loosen them please?"

I give her my best puppy dog eyes and she complies.

"They're still too tight."

She loosens them.

"A little more," I say as I feel my legs and arms beginning to have more room to move. I just need to make it so that they're loose enough for me to pull them out of the straps without struggle. They're almost there.

"Just a bit more," I say.

_ This is it,  _ I think as I prepare to bolt to the door. She loosens the straps for the final time, and immediately I pull out the IV as she gasps, shocked. I then jump out, the straps undoing on their own.

"No, no, please, stop!" she squeaks.

"Sorry, no can do," I call.  
"I've got friends to save."

I keep running as she scurries to the intercom.

"The Sweet One is escaping!" the Oompa Loompa squeaks.  
"All Oompa-Loompas report to the conversion lab. The Sweet One is escaping. I repeat! The Sweet One is escaping!"

I click the handle and bolt out of the lab. My heart pounding in my chest, I make a snap decision and start to dash to the left.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

And then left again.

Wait a second. Isn't this the exact same hallway I just went down?

"What.....what is going on? Is this some sort of..........giant shifting labyrinth?"

I suddenly hear Wonka laughing maniacally through an intercom.

_"I figured you'd try to get out. You thought you could escape, my dear?"_ it asks.  
_"Well, you're wrong. I am in control of this factory and I can bend it to my will even when I am not inside."_

All of a sudden, the room starts to spin.

_"Round and round and round she goes,"_ he taunts in a sing-song voice.  
_"Where she stops, only Wonka knows!"_

I begin to feel dizzy when I spy the door to the nut room. As if it read my mind, the room speeds up, sending me flying in the air. How am I flying?

"This is insane!" I scream as my eyes dart around for something-anything-to hold onto for support.

_"You'll get used to it, daughter,"_ Wonka laughs maddened.  
_"Now I must get to the tour. You be good and I'll let you help decide who you marry out of the three boys who won the tickets. Or perhaps the girl, if you wish."_

"Wait. What?" I gasp in disbelief.  
"I'm too young to get married!"

_ "Not if your father says you can get married. And who might that be? Oh, that's right. It's me!" _

His laugh begins to borderline-in fact somewhat cross the line-on pure insanity. It's absolutely terrifying. 

_ "Now sit back and enjoy the flight. I'm quite sure that it's going to be a good one..." _

And then the intercom clicks off.

I'm panicking. Where can I go? What can I do? I can't just keep flying around. I need to have some stability.  My eyes dart around when I suddenly see the nut room door handle again. It passes me by again, and that's an idea strikes me. Is it a possibly-stupid idea? Well, possibly. But what else can I do? I'm not gonna go down without at least trying.

"Alright," I pant absolutely terrified at what I'm about to do.  
"On three. One."

It passes me by again.

"Two."

And then again.

"Three!"

I launch myself towards it, timing it just right in order to grab onto the handle. The force Wonka activated blows against me, but I persist in spite of it. I push down on the handle and the door goes flying inward. I push myself inside and grab onto the other side. I drop to the floor as I push the door shut.

"Phew!" I breathe a sigh of relief."Now to find…..all of…..my…friends."

Immediately two Oompa Loompas walk out of the conversion chamber I saw Sophie and James in earlier. And their eyes are locked dead onto me.


	34. Peachy Planners

**(Matilda's POV)**

For a few moments, the three of us are silent. I try to act nonchalant, even though I know it won't work.

"Heyyyyyy," I greet them, casually saluting them as my foot drags in a semicircle."  
Nice day, huh?"

There's another moment of silence as they simply stare.

"That's the mistress," one of them gasps in a squeaky voice.

"Get her!" says the other in a nasally voice.

I brace myself as they charge towards me. This is it. This is the end.

"Not so fast, stinkfaces!" a squeaky voice announces.

The two of them skid to a halt and turn to see an army of about half a dozen squirrels glaring at them menacingly. In their hands are unshelled, large, hard walnuts.

"Squirrels, attack!" the voice screams.

Immediately, they begin to pelt the two with rock-hard walnuts until they collapse from the trauma with a thud. My heart beats rapidly as I stare at them in disbelief.

"Are they….?" I begin.

One of them races over to them. With each one, they pick up their wrists in their tiny little paws and checks.

"Nope, they're alive," they confirm.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"We'll have to get rid of them," I decide.

"Quick! Let's lock them in there!" one of them suggests pointing to the conversion chamber.

Quickly, three of the squirrels takes the body of the nasally Oompa-Loompa while the other two and I take the body of the squeaky one. With some struggle, we throw them inside and slam the door on them. While one of the squirrels works on the lock with their paw, the other four and I barricade the other door, just in case any Oompa-Loompas tried to get inside.

"Okay," I breathe after we've finished barricading the door.  
"Now that we took care of Nasal and Squeaky and blocked the doorway, what happened to you?"

"It's a long story," the curly-blonde-haired squirrel sighs.

"Billie, that's you, right?" I ask.

"Indeed," she squeaks.  
"I was the first to go missing along with Alfie."

The squirrel with the big eyes and light brown tuft of hair on his head, waves a tiny paw.

"We were out walking together," Alfie squeaks.  
"I was trying to get her to come to the factory with me because I thought I saw a figure in front of it. When I couldn't spot it, I swear I heard someone calling my name. I dragged Billie around back with me and then when I couldn't see anything, I felt a blow to my head. Next thing I knew, I was a squirrel."

"Sophie probably already told you about me," another one says.

"Dani?"

She nods slowly. All of a sudden, I hear a tiny tap-tap-tap. I turn to find a squirrel with a curly, dark-brown tuft of hair on its head and big eyes, tapping its foot impatiently.

"Well," it squeaks.  
"I didn't want to say it, but I told you so."

"Okay, fine, you dodo! You were right!" I growl at James.

"Actually I'm a squirrel."

"Whatever! So what now?"

"Why are you here?" Alfie asks.  
"Are you gonna become a squirrel too?"

"No," I reply.  
"Wonka wants to make me his daughter."

The squirrels give tiny gasps.

"Why?" Alfie asks in astonishment.

"I don't know," I groan.  
"Something about creativity IQ or something. Anyway, where do we go from here?"

"Well," Sophie pipes up.  
"When Nasal and Squeaky finished up my transformation, I heard them talking about an antidote for us squirrel hybrids in case of an accidental conversion. They said there are about a dozen vials of them down in the depths of the factory somewhere."

"There must be a lab of some sorts then. Right, how do we get down there?"

"Well, I also heard there's an emergency chute in here in case of an intruder or a chemical mishap. I don't remember where they said it was, though."

"Let's look around and find it then. Quick! Before Nasal and Squeaky wake up."

"What about Wonka?" Dani asks fearfully as we scurry around the room.

"He's giving the golden ticket tour. I doubt he'll catch us if we're careful."

The six of us begin shifting boxes around and moving things this way and that when Billie calls out.

"I think I found something."

We rush over to her to find what looks to be an old-fashioned laundry chute door.

"This has to be it," I say.  
"Come on."

With some effort, we open the door. The passage ahead looks dark and foreboding, but it could be our only way out where we won't be caught.

"On three," I whisper.  
"One, two, three!"

The six of us bolt forward into the chute finding ourselves in a winding slide of darkness. It feels like it spirals on and on forever until I see a dim light up ahead. Soon I go flying onto a moving floodway. I breathe a sigh of relief after checking myself over; nothing broken.

"I think we're in the clear," I gasp.

"Not quite," Dani squeaks in fear as we hear a loud thud.

I look around to find that we're on one of Wonka's high-rise chocolate bar conveyors. And not too far up ahead is the press that imprints the Wonka logo into the bars.


	35. Candy Escape Eggs

**(Matilda's POV)**

"Okay, who puts an emergency exit chute leading to a chocolate press?" I ask out of anger, confusion, and fright.

"I don't know," Billie squeaks fearfully.  
"What now?"

I look to the sides. It doesn't look safe to jump, but it might be our only chance to survive. The press rises pretty high before stamping each bar, at least high enough for me to fit under there before it stamps me to death, but it comes down pretty quickly.

"We'll have to jump," I announce, looking out to the left and swinging my feet over the edge.

"Are you nuts? No pun intended," Alfie squeaks.

"Well, it's either we jump or we get stamped to death, and I strongly prefer the former. Now!"

I push off of the conveyor belt and let gravity take control. I hear five little squeaks behind me as I plunge to the ground. Luckily, I land on my feet. The shock of it rushes through me as I make sure nothing is broken. The squirrels land on their paws.

"Thank our lucky stars no one died," Dani squeaks.

I look up and around at the massive room.

"Wow," I gasp.  
"Would you look at all of that chocolate? Wonka must make millions of them each day. Maybe billions. Or zillions. Or even googollions!"

I stand transfixed by the sight until I remember what we have to do.

"Right. What now?" I ask.  
"I don't think this is the deepest the factory goes."

"It's not," Dani says.  
"It's not even halfway deep."

"How do you know that?"

Dani shrugs.

"I think I heard some of the Oompa Loompas discussing it."

"I wonder if there's a map of this factory," I ponder.  
"Do any of you have any idea where this lab is?"

The five of them glance at each other and shrug.

"If I had to hazard a guess," Sophie says.  
"I would say that it would be very far down in the factory. Maybe at the lowest level."

I give a sigh.

"Well, let's get going then."

"Wait!" James exclaims.  
"How do we know for sure that it's at the lowest level?"

"It's a secret lab, you dodo," I scoff, stressing the word "secret."  
"If I were Willy Wonka, I would put a secret lab in the lowest part of the building too. Now let's get going!"


	36. Disastrous Chocolate Desserts

**(Matilda's POV)**

We travel down numerous pathways, being careful to check around corners, in case he's stationed Oompa Loompas to be on the lookout for me.

"This place is enormous," I remark as we turn our umpteenth corner.  
"How did he build this entire thing?"

"I doubt he built it himself," Alfie exclaims.

"Unless he's magic," Billie adds.

"Inconceivable. Magic can't exist."

"But a giant factory can?"

There's a moment of embarrassed silence.

"Touché."

All of a sudden, we hear a yell of distress coming from inside one of the rooms. We peek inside to see a rather enormous boy trapped in a tall vat of chocolate.

"Help! Help!" he yells in an accent which I assume to be either Austrian or German.

The six of us bust inside.

"What happened?" I exclaim, having to stand on my tiptoes to even see a bit of him up close. My nose peeks over the edge.

"I vas sucked up into Vonka's chocolate pipe."

"But how?"

"I fell into der chocolate river."

"Must've been trying to gulp it all down," James remarks.

I give him a small flick.

"What was that for?"

"For being a dodo."

I turn back to the boy.

"What can we do?"

"You must help me out!" he exclaims.  
"Vonka said if I'm not pulled out in time, I vill be poured into das boiler."

He points below. We rush over and peek at a vat of boiling chocolate. We can feel the heat from where we stand and we know this boy is in serious trouble. I turn back around to him.

"All for wanting chocolate?" I ask out of pity.

"I can't help it," he moans.  
"Vonka's chocolate tastes like  _ der Himmel.  _ I eat it by der truckload."

Immediately I look around to see if there's anyway we can get him out easily. Soon I spy a small manual crank by the pot.

"Maybe this will work."

I begin to turn it only to see that it tilts the vat towards the boiler. I try turning it the other way only to see that it's blocked off by a small brown brick of…

I investigate the block when the familiar aroma hits me.

"Chocolate?"

I try to pry it off, but to no avail. All of a sudden, Sophie hops up beside me and begins to gnaw at the block. The others join in and the block begins to diminish.

They're almost finished when suddenly—

_ BANG! _

The door flies open and in step two Oompa Loompas.

"Aha!" one of them yells.

"What are you doing down here?" asks the other sternly.  
"You're supposed to be in the conversion lab, and those squirrels are supposed to be in the Nut Room."

I decide to turn the question back around at them.

"What are YOU doing down here?" 

"We came to pour this new batch into the boiler," remarks the first.

What?!?!

"Don't you realize there's a child inside?"

"Yes."

A pit forms in my stomach before setting itself ablaze. Almost immediately, they charge at me and I kick them back. They bounce back several more times and I find that my feet are beginning to tire out.

"Please hurry up!" I exclaim to the squirrels.  
"I can't hold them off much longer."

They begin to charge back for what seems like the 100th time when Dani finally bites away at the last bit. I turn the handle counter-clockwise and the boy rushes out, covered in the sticky chocolate. The five squirrels launch themselves at the Oompa Loompas and tear at their faces. They try to throw them off, but suddenly, the boy throws a fist out at one of them, knocking the wind out of them. I proceed to do the same to the other, hitting it on the noggin for good measure.

"Are they….?" the boy asks, panting.

I check their pulses and shake my head. We rush out into the hallway and run a good distance before we speak.

" _ Danke Schon!  _ You saved my life. I am Augustus Gloop."

"Pleasure. Matilda Prescott."

"Dani Williams."

"Sophie Springer."

"Billie Smith."

"Alfie Nelson."

"James Adams."

"Vat are you all doing here?"

"We'd ask you the same question," I remark.  
"If it hadn't already been in the paper."

"Well, believe it or not, we  **were ** kids," Sophie says, gesturing to the other four.  
"But we were lured in here and turned into squirrels."

"Unt you?" he asks me.

I huff out a quick breath.

"I was lured in here too, but Wonka wants to make me his daughter."

"His daughter?" he asks incredulously.

"I'm shocked too," I add.  
"Something about creativity and IQ."

"Vhy don't you leaf den?"

"Do you really think I'll be able to find my way out of here?" I scoff.  
"And besides, he's probably got Oompa Loompas positioned everywhere. They probably all know that I got out of that conversion lab."

"Vat vere they converting you to?"

"I don't think I want to find out," I shiver.  
"Anyways, we're on our way to find Wonka's secret lab. That should have the antidote for  **these ** guys."

"Can I come too?" Augustus asks.  
"Perhaps I might be able to find some new candies of his in das lab. Plus I could help protect you from being converted."

I consider this for a moment. I glance at the others, who give me a shrug, as if to say "Eh. Why not?"

"Sure," I shrug.

"Just so long as you can keep up with us," James grumbles.

I give him another flick.

"Ow! Stop it!"

"I'll stop it when you stop being a dodo. Now let's go!"


	37. Never-Ending Nougats

**(Matilda's POV):**

We follow the path straight on, twisting and turning this way and that. After several twists and turns, I begin to realize that something is up with this place.

"Didn't we pass by this before?" I ask concerned, pointing to a random fern hanging upside-down (it's Wonka; I wouldn't question it; the fern, at least.).

"This hallway looks too familiar," Sophie grumbles.  
"Something is quite amiss."

_"You are quite right,"_ a voice seemingly out of nowhere cackles, causing us all to jump.

"Vhat is dat?" Augustus asks.

"Wonka," I growl.

_ "My, my, my, I thought you were much more intelligent, Matilda. You already fell for it once before." _

"Let me be, Wonka!" I snap.

_"Naughty, naughty girl of mine,"_ he scolds in a sing-song fashion that makes my skin crawl.  
_"Do NOT talk to daddy like that."_

"Why are you so insistent on me not escaping?"

_ "I must keep a watch over you. Should you escape, there would be severe consequences. But I wouldn't worry. You'll be converted before you even get to the lab." _

"So you DO have a secret lab," I exclaim.

_"Ooh, how clever!"_ he says in a condescending tone.  
_ "And it is located deep, deep down underneath the ground where the dead are all buried and never make a sound. But you won't need to go down there, my dear. Not ever, never ever; you need not to fear." _

"I thought you said it was inevitable for us all."

_ "Not for you. You see, one of the last ideas I created was a candy elixir of eternity. One sip and you'll never age or expire. Combined with the conversion, you shall never, ever leave this factory. And all shall be as it should, forever, and ever." _

He gives a menacing cackle as another pit forms in my stomach.

_ "And forever, my dear, is quite a long time." _

The voice fades away, leaving behind a shiver that coils and twists through my spine.


	38. Chocolate-Coated Blueberries

**(Matilda's POV)**

"Why the heck is he doing this?" Billie asks.  
"I don't wanna be a squirrel forever. I didn't even get to wear my new autumn gown."

"Where would you wear it to?" James asks.  
"We're not gonna have a dance or anything."

"Does that really matter?" I ask in frustration.  
"Wonka almost killed someone and he's monopolizing on slave labor. We need to turn you all back to normal and stop him in his tracks."

We rush on around and around until I spy an entrance into another hall.

"This way! C'mon," I yell to the group.

They follow my lead when I suddenly skid to a halt, hearing another cry for help.

"Hey!" shrieks a muffled girl's voice.  
"Let me out!"

I turn to my left and peek inside to see a giant blue ball inside of a glass chamber, the ball growing larger and larger by the second. Without hesitation, I step inside.

"Violet!" Augustus yells.

"Augustus? What are you doing here?"

"Vonka tried to boil me alive!"

"You two know each other?" Alfie asks.

"They're two ticket winners," I clarify.  
"Violet, what's happening to you?"

"I don't know!" she shrieks through her muffled lips.  
"One minute I was trying this gum and then I blew up into this blueberry thing. Wonka told his workers to take me to a juicing room."

"But you're growing," I exclaim.

"Exactly! They're pumping me with extra juice. I think Wonka's trying to turn me into blueberry flavoring!"

"Oh my Gosh!" Dani exclaims.  
"How do we stop it?"

"I don't know! I saw the workers using a control panel on me. I think that might be the secret to deflating me."

We look around the room and soon find a fair-sized, glossy silver console.

"This must be the control panel," I say as I run up to it and put my hands on it.  
"Do you know what they did?"

"No! Just press any button and pull any lever you can. And hurry! I can feel my skin stretching!"

In a frenzy, the squirrels, Augustus, and I start pulling and pushing every button, switch, and lever in sight.

"Nothing's working!" Violet exclaims.

"We're trying our best!" Sophie exclaims.

All of a sudden, we hear the doors open. I whirl around to see two oompa loompas in blueberry-blue hazmat suits and gas masks, carrying rather strange snow shovels.

"We caught her!" one of them says, their voice slightly muffled due to the gas mask.

"Come with us, sweetie," the other purrs maliciously.  
"Your chamber is waiting."

"Not on my vatch!" Augustus exclaims as he launches himself towards them. They move out of the way and rush at me. I step aside and one of them hits a button on the control panel.

"Hey!" Violet exclaims a moment later.  
"It—it's working! I can feel the juice being drained from me!"

I turn around and, sure enough, Violet is growing smaller and smaller by the second.

"You're not going to stop us, pretty one," the first oompa loompa hisses at me.

"Guard that button!" I tell the squirrels.

Immediately the five of them crowd around the button. As one of the oompa loompas stretches their finger out to press the button, James takes a snip at their finger.

"Hey! Get away from that, you rodent!" the oompa loompa exclaims as he drops his shovel.  
"We need the blueberry flavoring."

Alfie and Sophie hold out their claws and start to scratch at his hand. I can hear him yowl in pain as I walk over to the chamber.

"Wait!" Violet yells as she shrinks to normal size.  
"The blueberry chemical they used on me is highly toxic. That's why they had on those suits."

My mind begins to calculate what I can do. I think back to how Wonka got me to do what he wanted. Maybe I could use his tricks against him, or more specifically, his workers.

"Augustus, knock one out; hold the other down!" I yell.

Augustus lunges at the oompa-loompa trying to press the button. He grabs the shovel that the oompa loompa dropped and brings it down on their head. Almost immediately, he lunges for the other and pins them down.

"Wha-what are you going to do to me?" the oompa-loompa asks, frightened.

"Oh, nothing," I say innocently as I hold out my finger.

"Please l-let me go! I—I'll do anything."

"Well, I suppose," I say slowly, pretending to consider this.  
"But first, follow my finger with your eyes."

He does so.

"Focus only on my finger, and my voice."

He nods.

"You are becoming more and more relaxed. More tired. Much more tired. So tired that your eyes begin to flutter."

Almost immediately he responds to it and I'm even shocked at myself. I hold him there for a few more minutes.

"And….sleep," I tell him, snapping my fingers.

His eyes drop close and I wait to see if he's faking it.

"You are now deeply relaxed and highly suggestible. Everything I say become the absolute truth and the truth becomes reality. Is that understood?"

The oompa loompa nods slowly.

"Good. Now, when I snap my fingers, you will go into the chamber with your suit on and get Violet out. You will do whatever you have to to remove the chemical. Once you have and once we are gone, you will forget that you were hypnotized or that we were ever here. Is that understood?"

He nods slowly again. I'm about to snap my fingers when another idea slips into my head. Nothing much. Just a harmless suggestion.

"Also, whenever someone says the word 'chocolate,' you will act and think like a chicken for five minutes. You will see yourself as a chicken when you look in the mirror. You will cluck like a chicken. You will peck like a chicken. When the five minutes are up, you will not remember acting or thinking like a chicken and whenever someone claims that you ever did, you will not believe it, no matter how much evidence says you did."

He nods again.

"One, two, three."

I snap my fingers and Augustus lets go of the oompa loompa. Immediately he goes over to the chamber, presses some buttons, and suddenly water comes down from the ceiling inside of the chamber. After a few minutes, he opens the door and starts to brush her down. He then directs her to another chamber and shuts her in. Her clothes, previously baggy, begin to return to their normal size and she begins to dry off. Once it's all done, he opens both doors and directs Violet out.

"Thanks a bunch!" she tells us.

"Don't mention it," I tell her.  
"I'm Matilda, by the way. And these are my friends; Alfie, Billie, Dani, Sophie, and James."

"What are you doing here?"

"Long story short, Wonka wants to make me his daughter. We're trying to find the antidote for my friends to be human again. You wanna come with?"

"Sure. I've got nothing better to do anyways. I just didn't know Wonka was THAT eccentric."

"Believe me, none of us did. C'mon!"

We exit the room, shutting the door behind us. We're about to leave when I suddenly remember.

"Hang on a minute," I tell them.

Quietly I peek through the window. Sure enough he's snapped out of his trance and is regaining awareness. I wait just a few seconds before I open the door a crack and say

"Chocolate."

As quick as a flash, I go back to the window just in time. He begins to cluck, bob his head, and run around just like a chicken. I can't help but giggle a bit before I remember that the other one could wake up at anytime. I shut the door quietly as I head back to the others.

"Okay, let's get going."


	39. Furnace Fudgies

**(Matilda's POV)**

The hallway seems to go on forever, but this time it's not twists and turns but rather one that goes straight onward. As the group goes onward, I ponder why exactly Wonka is trying to kill off these kids. I mean, Augustus said he was sucked up the chocolate pipe because he wanted to try it. And Violet chewed some gum and almost became blueberry flavoring, which I assume someone had told her to NOT do. Are they sinful?

"Violet, your skin's still blue," I remark with concern.

She just gives a shrug.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much right now. I'm sure it will go away."

_"Oh, I'm sure it won't,"_ a voice boasts.

We all start to look around when I realize it's Wonka's voice coming from out of nowhere.

_"Well, well, well,"_ it chuckles.  
_"It seems you've managed to escape blueberryfication after all, Violet."_

"What the heck were you thinking, Wonka? I could've been killed!"

_ "And that was the point. Matilda, my dearest, believe me when I say that you should not trust Augustus and Violet; they are bad seeds." _

"What are you talking about?" I ask in disbelief.  
"They're not bad people! They're just misguided."

_ "Oh, is that so? Perhaps the next of my victims might prove otherwise. That is, if you can reach her in time." _

Hearing this we run down the hall, down many stairs, and around many corridors until the group skids to a stop by a metal door as I hear someone screaming.

"Help me! I want to get out of here!"

"That voice sounds oddly familiar," I remark aloud.

I open the door and everything seems to heat up. In front of us is a large iron furnace. I hear another scream and I look up and far to my left to see a girl in a mink coat and a man in a brown suit staring in fear. I recognize them immediately.


	40. Fiery Nougat Nutcases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moral Dilemma Time: Do we save the annoying brat or not?

**(Matilda's POV)**

"Veruca? Uncle Nigel?"

"Cousin Maddie?"

"It's Matilda!" I groan.  
"Anyway, what in the name of sanity happened to you?"

"I just wanted a squirrel!" Veruca yells.  
"I wanted a squirrel, but Mr. Wonka said I couldn't, so I went to get one myself, but then they pushed me down this hole. Now I'm covered in garbage and about to be burnt alive!"

I stand there and watch them.

"What are you waiting for, Matilda?" Dani urges me.  
"We need to save them!"

"I mean, do we have to?" I hesitate.  
"Like, maybe we should save Uncle Nigel, but do we REALLY need to save Veruca?"

"Matilda! This is exactly what Wonka wants from you!" Sophie exclaims.

"He  **wants** to kill your own cousin. He  **wants** you to reject your own family."

"I mean, at this point, I don't know if I would call her family. She's more like an annoying add-on, really, not really family, I would say. She's kinda….kinda like a neon light, you know? Really loud and annoying. Like, would it really be such a loss?"

"Do you WANT Wonka to claim you as his daughter?" Alfie asks.

Honestly, based on this scenario, I'm kind of at an impasse. I mean, I'd get to work with my greatest hero of all time AND I'd get rid of one annoying brat.

Wait, why am I running from Wonka again?

"Matilda, this isn't you!" James exclaims.  
"I know you would punch, kick, hit, maybe bite people, but I KNOW you would never want to kill someone."

_ Don't listen to him,  _ a voice in my head whispers; Wonka's voice.  
_ Let her burn. She made your life miserable. Don't you want to make her pay? _

"Matilda, snap out of it!" Billie shouts.  
"You're all glossy-eyed and creepy-looking. I don't like it. It's scawwy!"

_ It's just so easy to let her burn,  _ purrs the voice.

_ It's just SOOOO easy. All you have to do, my dear, is stand there and watch and smile. _

For a few moments, I do; I simply stare at them, transfixed, as I feel a smile creep up my face.

"Matilda!" Violet yells.  
"What in Sam Hill are you doing? Go and save her!"

_ Let her die, let her die,  _ chants the voice in my head.

_ Let her shrivel up and cry. _

_ Let her burn into a crisp. _

_ Chard and scar and burn and hiss _

_ And then we'll live in total bliss. _

_ I say let her die. _

It repeats the chant and I find myself saying it in time with the voice. it just feels amazing. Finally after all the whining and the screaming and the boasting, I'll be able to make her pay for it all—

"Matilda, please help me!" I hear Veruca cry.  
"Please! I don't want to die."

All it takes is the word "please," to snap me out of this. After a few moments, I start to look around for a way to help. Suddenly I spy a stack of chocolate bars. And they're not melting.

"C'mon!" I say to the group.

All of a sudden, without me even thinking about it, the chocolate bars begin to rise in the air. I see the tiny hands in my vision again.

"What the heck?" Veruca asks in a state of shock.

I begin to stack them one-by-one into a staircase. I dash up to the top and hold out my hand just as they're coming close.

_ Wait!  _ the voice exclaims.  
_ Matilda, this isn't what you want. Let her burn. We'll have one less bad nut in our new world, my dearest darling chocolate flower. _

"Bug off, Wonka, you creep!" I spit as Veruca reaches out for my hand. We grasp on and, with some help, I pull her over the railing. Then when my Uncle Nigel comes by, I hold out my hand to him and pull him over.

"H-how did you do that?" Veruca asks in fear.  
"With the-the chocolate bars?"

I shrug.

"I honestly don't know. I haven't used it, at least effectively, since the party."

"Aha! So it was you who wrecked Taylor's dress!"

"Yeah, yeah. But now's not the time to talk about that. We need to turn my friends back to human and then get out of here."

"What are you even doing here anyway?"

"Vonka vants to make her his daughter," Augustus says.  
"Something about creativity und IQ level."

"What? I want to be his daughter!" Veruca whines.

Out of nowhere, my hand reaches up and slaps her face.

"Do you wanna know what that has involved so far?" I ask infuriated.  
"Wonka tried to hypnotize me multiple times. I got knocked out. I was in a conversion lab. They put IVs into me, and the IVs put chemicals into me. They put me into a simulation. Not to mention, even though he is giving the tour as we speak, he is still able to taunt me and respond to me. Now tell me, Veruca. Do you really want to be his daughter?"

And for the first time ever, I think, Veruca backs down.

"Well," she says sheepishly.  
"When you put it like that, no."

"Exactly. Now we're on our way down to a lab of some sorts to find an antidote that will turn my friends back to normal. Then we're gonna get the heck outta here."

"Wait. So your friends are….squirrels?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"I remember something; when I got dragged to the chute, I managed to catch a glimpse of some of the squirrels. They didn't look like normal squirrels. They sort of looked….human, in a way. They could be other transformed people. You think maybe…...we could help them out when we…..find the antidote?"

For a long moment, I am shocked. Like genuinely shocked. Veruca? Putting others first? That's not like Veruca at all. That's like the anti-Veruca.

"Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?" I ask suspiciously.

"I'm serious," she tells me.  
"I mean, if we're gonna get out of here, we might as well help someone else. Plus it'll be revenge towards Wonka for not letting me have a squirrel."

Okay, a bit of the Veruca I know is still in there, after all.

"Yeah," I answer in shock.  
"Yeah, okay. We'll free them too."

"Well, I must say, my dear," Uncle Nigel says as he wipes the sweat from his forehead with a white handkerchief.  
"That's very sweet of you, in a way."

"Thank you, daddy," she beams gushingly.

I feel my stomach begin to churn.

"Euggh. Alright. That's enough of that," I tell them as I lead them down the chocolate bar staircase and to the door.  
"We'd better hurry down to that lab if we're gonna get my friends back to normal."


	41. Tasty Taffy Traps

**(Matilda's POV)**

Quietly, I open and peek through the doorway, looking around for any sign of life. I see none.

"All clear," I tell the rest of them as I step out into the hallway.

"Okay. Where to now?" Uncle Nigel asks.

"Well, like I said, we need to find the lab. It contains the antidote."

"How do you know he even has a lab?" Veruca asks.

"Where else would you create potions and antidotes?"

"Touché."

"Anyway, it's very far down," I explain as we walk through the corridor.  
"We suspect at the very lowest level of the factory. We need to look around for any staircases or secret passages that he may have."

"You mean, like this one?" Dani asks as she scurries over to the end of the corridor.

I rush over to her and, sure enough, there's a secret passage in the form of a staircase.

_ Killing two birds with one stone,  _ I think.

"Yeah. How did you see that?" I ask astonished.

Dani gives a small shrug.

"Guess I just could."

"Okay, c'mon everyone. This way!" I exclaim to the rest of the group.

The group catches up to me. I'm about to take a step inside when I feel a paw grab onto my sock and pull.

"Wait a minute. Something doesn't feel right about this," James tells me as I look down at him."Why would a secret passage just….be open like this? Unless it's a trap."

"Why would it be a trap? Maybe Wonka forgot to close it the last time he used it."

"Doubt it," Violet adds.  
"He may be scatter-brained, but he doesn't seem like someone who would make mistakes like  _ this. _ "

I consider this possibility; maybe it is a trap? I'm not sure. I don't know Mr. Wonka THAT well.

"Maybe we should just give it a try," I suggest.

Slowly, I place my foot on the first step. Nothing happens.

"Seems okay so far."

I place my other foot down on the second step. Then the third. Then the fourth. Then the fifth—

"What was that?" I gasp.

All of a sudden, I see the stairs begin to flatten into a slide, and my eyes grow wide.

"I told you," James shrugs.

I try to grab onto someone for balance. I grab Augustus's hand. Violet grabs his. Veruca grabs Violet's. The squirrels cling onto them. And Mr. Salt just stands there. I slip underneath my feet as the stairs flatten, sending me and the others tumbling down the slide.

We spiral down, screaming all the way, until we hit onto flat ground. I find that it's extremely dark. I hear something dripping and splashing. I see glowing eyes, and I begin to fear the worst.

"It's not—"I begin to say, my heart pounding in my chest.  
"It can't be."

_"Oh, ho, ho, but it is,"_ Willy Wonka's voice cackles through an intercom.  
_ "I know you're afraid of log flumes, my dear, especially being trapped in one, so I took the trouble of propping open a secret passage for you to stumble upon." _

In panic, I fall into a ball and begin rocking back and forth in an attempt to calm myself.

_ "Now I know you must be in pure panic right now, but that's normal. My oompa loompas are on their way to collect you and the others and return you to your  **rightful ** places." _

His emphasis on the word "rightful" makes me shiver at what it means for my friends, but I nearly scream at the thought of what it means for Augustus, Violet, and Veruca.

_ "Now don't try to go anywhere. There are animatronics ready to grab you at any time. However figuring that perhaps you should be foolish enough to try to escape, I have sent logs through the tunnels. But I wouldn't try to do so. It's impossible to escape without the assistance of my oompa loompas. Now enjoy the ride, dearies. For some of you, it will be. your. last." _

And the intercom clicks off, leaving us in dead silence.


	42. Fruity Fright Fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Willy Wonka meets FNAF.

**(Matilda's POV)**

At this point, I'm in a panic. After an incident I had at a fair on a log flume/tunnel ride, I've become terrified of being trapped in one.

"Matilda?" Sophie asks me.  
"You okay?"

I shake my head quickly.

"Not really."

"Why are you so afraid?"

"It was something that happened to her when she was four, I think," Veruca pipes up.  
"Now she's terrified of tunnel rides and log flumes. And if it's both, which this one is, oh boy."

I tremble just at the mere sound of the drip, drip, drip from the river.

"Okay, but if we don't get out of here, those oompa loompas are gonna come and get us," Alfie reminds us.  
"You need to work past this, Matilda. Or else you'll become Wonka's daughter and you'll never be able to leave the factory."

My stomach lurches at the idea. Never leaving the factory? I wouldn't be able to go to school. I wouldn't be able to travel anywhere. I'd be trapped like a bird in a cage. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to collect myself and I stand up. Glancing to my left, as my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I see two logs coming our way.

"We'll have to take the logs."

"But Wonka said—" Dani begins.

"I don't care what he said! If we just stay here, we're giving up. At the very least, we should try to escape."

I walk over to the edge of the ride and wait. When a log comes into my vicinity, I stretch my leg out and step inside. It rocks back and forth slightly as I step in and situate myself inside, causing my heart to jump.

The squirrels jump onto the log with me. Augustus, Violet, Veruca, and Uncle Nigel end up taking the log behind me.

As we travel through the tunnel in near silence, I can't help but keep my guard up. I feel like I'm being watched. I vocalize my concerns to the rest of the group.

"Wonka DID say there were animatronics ready to grab us," Sophie points out.  
"But as long as we stay away from the edge, we should be fine."

All of a sudden, something swipes just in front of my face from my left. I freeze in place.

"Do I want to look?" I squeak.

Then it swipes again, just inches from my face. Glancing to my left, my heart flips to see a light turn on a reveal a pirate with bleeding scars all over his face. Bones seem to almost protrude, creating massive bumps in his skin.

"Who, or what, are you?"

"Yar," he growls pirately and demonically.  
"I be Captain Jack, king of the candy skeletons."

As the log moves, I'm surprised, and honestly terrified, to find that he can move along with us. As we proceed forward, skeletons show up beside him.

"And I'm here to plunder the Sweet One from her log and bring her to the master."

The what now?

"The Sweet One?" I ask.

"Yar," he confirms.  
"She be the key to conquering the world for me master."

"Are you all comprised of the ghosts of previous children who were killed here?" Alfie gasps.

"Nar, we be artificial intelligence, lad."

"I don't think any children have been killed here," says a voice in a British accent to the right of me.

I look to see a skeleton in a bowler hat, monocle, and mustache carrying a cane.

"Yet."

At that last word, the skeleton growls demonically.

"Look into my eyes, Matilda," Captain Jack commands.

Trying to look away, I see a flash of red. It's menacing, yet hypnotic. After a few more flashes, it stops. I turn my back to the animatronics.

"Ha! Looks like you're outnumbered, Captain Jack," I taunt him.

All of a sudden, I hear a shrill, ear-piercing, saw-against-a-metal-board scream. All around me, mechanical eyes light up the same hypnotic, menacing red.

"Um, I think WE may be outnumbered, Matilda," Billie shivers.

All of a sudden, I hear various growls, hisses, and clicks as a bunch of animatronic hands reach out to grab me. I try to duck and jump, nearly being caught by a hook or a hand or a claw every few seconds. At the same time, I attempt to dodge their hypnotic eyes, flashing like a bunch of strobe lights.

"This is insane!" I yell as I duck into the interior of the log.

"Join us, Matilda," a demonic chipmunk-esque voice yells.  
"Join us, and we'll rule the world."

Soon every other voice follows and each begin to echo each other perpetually, making my ears throb.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Wait!" Veruca yells from the other log.  
"I see something."

I look up to see where she's pointing. Following her finger, I find a board of switches mounted into the wall of the cave behind the animatronics.

"Use whatever you used to stack those chocolate bars, and maybe that will turn them off."

Normally I don't take advice from my cousin, but she might be right. I try to block out the echoes and muster my force to bring those red hands back out.

_ Flip the switches,  _ I think.  
_ Flip the dang switches! _

Out of nowhere, one hand shoots out and flips a switch. Another shoots out and flips another, and another, and another until all eight are flipped. Unfortunately it doesn't work.

"There's gotta be a combination of some sorts," I grumble as I set to work, trying every combination I can think of. Soon I manage to figure out how long I have to make this work, but not without Captain Jack trying to invade my thoughts with some strange poem, in a high-pitched shriek, like a demonic parrot.

_ Each combo takes approximately fifteen seconds to create with a five second reset time if I get it wrong,  _ I think _ . _

"OH, THERE IS NO WAY OF KNOWING!"

_ Twenty seconds per combo times at least sixty-four potential combinations, what is that? _

"YES, THERE IS NO WAY OF KNOWING!"

_ Let's see. Divide sixty-four by maximum number of combos I can attempt per minute, three, _

"WHICH DIRECTION YOU ARE GOING! WHICH DIRECTION YOU ARE GOING!"

_ to get twenty-one point three three three and so on, meaning it would take about twenty-one minutes _

_ " _ IS A HURRICANE A-BLOWING? IS IT SOON TO BE A-SNOWING?"

_ and twenty seconds to try every single combination. At the rate the log is moving, I won't have enough time to try them all, especially while trying to avoid the light and appendages. _

"IS THE TIME TO BE A-SLOWING OR ARE YOU TO BE A-GOING?"

"Oh, shut up!" I snap.

On top of that, my hands are beginning to sense my exhaustion and now take a lot longer to come out, so it's gonna take even longer than twenty-one minutes and twenty seconds. I tell the others, and I hear a loud grunt and screams. I look to see Augustus standing up and stepping out onto the platform, rocking the log.

"Let me take care of this!" he exclaims.

He hunches his neck, making himself into a ball, before pushing himself, sending him flying in the direction of the control panel.

Sparks fly, and the animatronics begin to flash their lights and swipe at me. Their cries begin to increase, both in volume and in tempo. It begins to overload my mind, my heart begins to race, and I begin to perspire heavily. Why is everything in doubles?

I feel myself falling backwards. The back of my head hits against something hard, and soon all I can see is darkness.


	43. Fudge Fallies

**(Matilda's POV)**

_ Matilda? Are you okay? _

I hear a voice in the distance, calling out for me. I slowly open my eyes to reveal, as my eyes adjust, lights and a group of people, and animals crowded around me.

"Good! You're awake!"

I look up to see the others crowded around me. I still hear water dripping, but I don't hear any animatronics.

Sitting up and rubbing my head, I look over to my left to find that Captain Jack and the other animatronics seem to have…well….exploded.

"Good Golly, what the heck happened here?" I exclaim.  
"And what happened to me?"

"You passed out after the animatronics started going all haywire," Violet tells me.  
"Augustus managed to override the panel and, eventually, make them combust."

"Where are we now?"

"We managed to find a bridge over the log ride," Alfie explains.  
"As soon as you're ready, we're gonna take the next logs out of here."

My head still feels like it's throbbing slightly when all of a sudden, I detect a familiar scent.

"Does anyone else smell….chocolate?" I ask.

Immediately everyone begins to sniff the air.

"I do smell it a bit," says Uncle Nigel.

"Me too," Veruca replies.

"It gets stronger the closer I am to the edge," Billie exclaims.

Going over to the edge, I look down to see thick, brown water. No, that's not water. It's….

"Chocolate?" Billie and I ask simultaneously.

"Wait, if it's chocolate," I ask.  
"Then why is there an iron-esque smell as well?"

"Oh, that's not something you should worry about," Alfie pipes up.  
"Chocolate has a high iron content."

"No, she's right," Dani adds.  
"The iron smell is overwhelming."

I look closer at the chocolate river; within the brown concoction, I see small streams of dark red.

"That's not just chocolate," I whisper as the blood rushes from my face.

The others come over to take a look and they gasp.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" Violet exclaims.

"Whose is that anyway?" Sophie asks.

"I don't think I want to know," I gulp.

Is it possible that….there  **were ** people here before us? Were being the keyword here. And is the same thing that happened to them going to happen to any of us? I mean, it's become clear that Wonka has the capacity to commit murder. Who's to say this whole thing isn't just a cover for murder?

I try to push the thought out of my mind when I see two more logs coming our way. Hoping that there are no more killer animatronics up ahead, I jump into the first log that comes through. The squirrels follow suit and the others take the second log.

For the vast majority of the trip, it's uneventful, save for dead animatronics. But later on in the trip, we start to hear rushing rapids up ahead. Up ahead of us is a raging waterfall, er-chocolate fall I guess. I look around, but there's no alternate route, and we realize we're going to have go through this.

"Brace yourselves, y'all," Violet tells us as we near the edge.

I shut my eyes and do just that. And I suddenly feel my log tip forward.

Quickly opening my eye, something I immediately regret, I see that it's a straight 90 degree angle drop, I cannot see the bottom, and we're falling pretty fast. As I see my decade of life flashing through my mind's eye, I'm just hoping that the impact doesn't kill us, at least not painfully.


	44. Sour Stretchers

**(Matilda's POV):**

I shut my eyes even tighter and I brace myself for the impact, but it never comes. Instead I hear two somethings deploy and the log begins to slow down. Cautiously I open my eyes and my heartbeat begins to decrease when I see that the log has deployed two separate parachutes as we near the bottom.

We land with a small plop and float over to the edge of the log ride. The log behind us has also deployed two parachutes. As soon as I step out of the log, I quickly notice how cold it's become and I realize we must be really far down in Wonka's factory.

"Well, that happened," Billie gasps.

"Yeah," I agree shakily.  
"Now let's get out of here."

I see a round vault-like door open just up ahead. Running towards it, I look around to make sure that no oompa loompas are there.

"Looks like the coast is clear," I say in relief.

Sneaking on out, we begin to wind down a spiral staircase until I hear some commotion coming from one of the rooms. I skid to a halt.

"Did you all hear that?" I whisper.

I listen again and soon I hear a sort of stretching sound coming from inside of the room and some pained groaning. Cautiously I look through the window to make sure there aren't any oompa loompas in that room. Thankfully there aren't. But just in case, I try to be as quiet as I can opening the door. I head over to find a boy who looks to be tinier than he probably should be, but seems to be rapidly stretching. He's strapped to some sort of machine reminiscent of a medieval stretching device.

"Hey," he says, sort of chill, but I can tell that there is some panic in his voice.  
"Can you, like, get me out of here please? My abdomen is starting to stretch too far."

Quickly I look around to see if I can find some sort of control panel or something to make this stop. If I know Wonka, if we're not able to stop this in time, it won't end well for this guy.

"Matilda," Veruca whispers.  
"Look."

She points to a little box on the side of the machine.

"That's a power box," I say confused.  
"What about it?"

But then I take a closer look and notice that there's a portion of the metal covering that's bent to reveal a small hole. And inside are a bunch of colored wires. I call over to the squirrels. They each try to fit themselves in the hole, but without success.

"Try pulling it back a bit more," Alfie suggests.  
"Applying a pulling force should create a hole that one of us should be able to fit into and shut the system down via cutting and biting the wires inside and/or causing some type of circuitry malfunction."

I take my hand and grab onto the exposed piece. With some persistence, I hear a low creak coming from the metal as I pull it back to reveal sparks of electricity. Immediately my heart begins to palpitate.

"Let me handle this," Alfie volunteers, which shocks quite a few of us, no pun intended.  
"I've done electrical grid simulations many times."

"But this isn't a simu-thingy," Billie remarks confused.  
"This is real life You could die!"

"No," Alfie sighs out of frustration.  
"And I know. But a simulation nearly mimics how something might be done in real life. I've had to cut apart several wires that were parts of various kinds of grids for multiple projects. I once even had to reassemble a computer grid for an electronics competition. It came all the way from a small village in Norway, meaning the instructions were all in Norwegian."

"How did you figure it out?" Dani asks, intrigued.

"Well, once I figured out the basic structures of the Norwegian language as well as exceptions to each rule of the conjugations and grammar, it was pretty smooth sailing. Ended up taking second place. It seems I mistranslated a small portion so two of my wires ended up being swapped with one another. Not my proudest moment, I'll admit."

"One time, I was running late and I swapped in my black mascara for red mascara," Billie pipes up.  
"Everyone called me siren eyes for the rest of the year."

"Not the same thing, but we'll talk about that later," Alfie sighs.

He scurries over and latches onto the side.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" I ask him out of concern as he climbs up the box.  
"It looks dangerous."

"If it means this kid gets to live, then yes. Plus, scientifically, my squirrel teeth should be able to safely chew through these wires. Even if what I've read about in all seven volumes of  _ Animalia Anatomis  _ proves false, and I suffer fatal injuries-"

All of a sudden, I hear the jiggling of a doorknob and my heart jumps.

"Hurry!" I whisper harshly to him.

Just as he sneaks into the hole, the door bursts open and in enter four oompa loompas all wearing white jumpsuits. One of them is holding a remote control.

"Well, well, well," the one with the remote says menacingly.  
"Looks like we got ourselves a couple of troublemakers. Poor Mikey will have to suffer for that."

He presses a white button and I hear something whirring at top speed. The boy, who I assume is named Mike or Mikey or something, winces in pain as his body begins to stretch even more. Meanwhile I begin to hear squeaks of pain coming from the wire box and my heart is now racing.

"Oh, do you hear that?" the second one gasps.  
"It sounds like we might have a nice, roasted squirrel to eat for dinner tonight."

"More like rotten," the third oozes with malice.  
"As they were not a good, little squirrel who stayed in the nut room like they are supposed to. But they'll be nice and delicious with a side of barbecue sauce."

The group of oompa loompas cackle sadistically and my face turns absolutely white. I knew the oompa loompas were willing to kill these kids for candy, but they're willing to kill the squirrel children as well?

"Shut it down!" I scream in fury.  
"Can't you hear how much pain they're both in?"

They stop laughing and stare at me as if I'm some sort of museum attraction or zoo animal or some sort of extra terrestrial.

"Well," the fourth considers very slowly.  
"We could let them go. If you come with us."

All of a sudden, their eyes suddenly roll into the backs of their skulls in sync. Their mouths slowly open, dropping the jaws just a bit further down than normal. And seemingly from out of nowhere, I hear four demonic voices chorus

_ "Come back to us, Matilda. With your ingenuity, creativity, and innocence, you and the master shall achieve absolute world domination; the world shall bow at your feet and marvel at your creativity. If you don't, drastic measures shall be taken." _

The last sentence seems to have each word extended.

_ Well, I'm definitely going to have nightmares for the next ten years now,  _ I think shivering.

All of a sudden, I hear the whirring power down and a scurry of little feet. Turning around I find that Alfie has managed to make it out alive, with little physical damage it would seem. On top of that, the machine Mike is strapped into has stopped stretching him.

"You okay?" I ask both Alfie and Mike.

"Yeah," they both say.

Immediately the other squirrels begin to climb up the machine and gnaw at Mike's chains. Meanwhile, Augustus, Violet, Veruca, Uncle Nigel, and I deal with the four oompa loompas.

We manage to beat them down and by the time we have them restrained, mostly thanks to Augustus, Mike has been freed.

"Thanks, dudes," he says.  
"Name's Mike. Mike Teavee."

I go through everyone else and we shake hands.

"So what are you doing here, Matilda?" he asks.

"Long story short, we need to find an antidote to change these guys," I explain, gesturing to the squirrels.  
"Back to normal. As well as keep Wonka from making me his daughter and achieving world domination."

"World domination? That doesn't sound good. Can I give you a hand? After all, it seems like Wonka nearly tried to kill me."

"Ve're in das same boat,  _ mein Freud _ ," Augustus assures him, gesturing to him, Violet, Veruca, and Uncle Nigel.  
"All of us nearly met our dooms thanks to Vonka."

"So does that mean you'll let me join your party?" he asks.

I look at him a bit confused.

"It's video game terminology. Can I join you?"

"Oh," I exclaim.  
"I don't really play video games, but yeah, you can join us."

"Sweet. Where to next?"

I consider my options, which to be honest, is really anywhere, as we don't have much of a clue as to how far down this factory even goes.

"I guess downwards to find his lab."

"And how exactly do we get there?" he asks as we walk towards the door.

"Honestly, I don't know, but what do we have to lose by taking random directions?"

_ Probably a lot,  _ I think.  
_ But what other choice do we have? _


End file.
